The Rachel: Andalite
by Lilac Solanum
Summary: After The One lets the New Animorphs go, they stop on Andalite to regroup.
1. Chapter 1 - Aximili

I remember finding the DNA sample and holding it in my hand. I remember picking off just one hollow piece hair. I remember reporting back to my F.O. Then I remember finding myself in my old human morph, looking straight at Tobias, standing in a depressing Yeerk vessel.

It was not the reunion with Tobias I had often envisioned.

I have very rarely visited Earth since the end of the war. It is not, entirely, due to a lack of want. An extended Earth stay would be quite pleasurable. I do miss many things, like the abundant variety of food, the unique and almost spicy feel of Earth grass soaking into my hooves, and the many intriguing Earth entertainment programs. While a handful of these things have made it back to homeworld, much of it has been altered. The homeworld Cinnabon, for instance, does not have easy access to Earth livestock or animal byproducts. To compensate, liquid from the s hilarn fruit is used to replicate bovine breast secretions, and illynva algae is used as a binding force in the Cinnabon mixture. It is a worthy and much more ethical approximation, but it is just that — an approximation. There is a field of Earth grass planted by the government for tourism's sake, but the grass has been spliced with the homeworld's hearty lara plant, and I can feel a significant difference. Some Earth entertainment has been imported to homeworld, but much of it is boring to me. Many are films and documentaries about the Animorphs, but I feel little need to relive those experiences. Other imported pieces tend to be documentaries about Earth flora and fauna, which are rather boring if you have morphed many of the creatures on the planet. At my urging, the Electorate did broadcast a few compilations of These Messages , which went over quite well with the public. However, it is the only truly fascinating Earth media I have managed to share with the people. I desperately wished to know what happened on Days Of Our Lives or Passions. Those characters were as comrades to me, and I miss them dearly.

There were many fine reasons to take a brief leave to Earth for leisure, but there were also many difficulties. Frankly, I did not have time. It was a testament to my own successes. A trip to Earth takes anywhere from four days to three weeks in Z-space, and I would want to spend at least one week to justify the travel. To leave my post for that long would require much discussion and negotiation. After all, I was Prince Aximili of Earth. My attendance at meetings and war-councils, while largely symbolic, was still imperative. I held monthly lectures on humans and Earth culture, which are widely attended and often broadcast. There were many smaller appearances I must make throughout the seasons, even when I am not on active duty. I am a hero, and it is a hero's job to inspire bravery in others. I did not take this role lightly.

I also did not need an Earth leave, at least in respect to contacting the Animorphs. I still spoke to whom I needed to speak. Cassie and Marco have both made plenty of contact with me; Cassie for professional reasons, Marco for indiscernible ones. I will always treasure my time serving under Prince Jake, but he is suffering from what is called the warrior's quiet, and I often find our brief conversations disturbing. For me, it is enough to see those three on my occasional visits as Ambassador. It is fun, as humans say, to 'catch-up,' and then leave.

Yet, I would have milked every bit of my clout to request leisure time and visit Tobias. More than food, grass, and amusements, I have longed for Tobias. Of course, he had made himself unavailable. It was, initially, a joy to look upon his face, even in his human morph. His eyes were familiar. His smile was the same.

It was a brief but warm moment, quickly followed by chill and fear.

Tobias filled in the gaps in my memory. I did not allow the fate of the Intrepid to cloud my thoughts, nor did I allow myself to dwell on Tobias onlyspeaking to me about The One, and not apologizing for avoiding me for nearly a full Andalite year. I quickly went to Menderash, and waited by his side in the small and cramped infirmary. The enclosed space made me anxious, but I rose above it. I wanted to make sure I was here when Menderash awoke.

Menderash-Postill-Fastill. A nothlit. A vecol.

In human parlance, Menderash is much closer to a traditional 'Prince' than I or Jake. Andalite spacecraft is built by the people as a whole, all in pieces, and then assembled at one of our three spaceports. My family designs ducts for air and Dome irrigation. Both Elfangor and I learned the craft from our parents before enlisting in the army. As is tradition, we would retrain once we were released from service. We learn once before experience, and once more after we reach maturity. It is the Andalite way. However, many families also make ducts. It is a simple thing. Not all pieces of spacecraft require expansive knowledge and inherent talent. Families like mine are simple roots of a flower. Sturdy, but blunt. Necessary, but indelicate. Our work was enough to give us a bit of leeway in Andalite society, but only in comparison to families that are not allowed to participate in the building at all.

Certain other families have much, much more weight in society. They are the petals of the Andalite fleet. Menderash-Postill-Fastill is from such a family, yet even more so. It is hard to explain. If other families are petals, than Menderash's clan is a delicate drop of dew that reflects light off the flower just so. His family is so respectable that Menderash is as recognizable as I.

His family created our weapons.

The secrets of weaponry are not well known. While weapons are necessary, many Andalites find them distasteful. It is seen as brave, to take on the mantel of ship cannons. Often Andalites become bloodthirsty and hungry for destruction, or they fall into the quiet. Menderash's clan has stayed sturdy and strong for generations, all while innovating and surprising. Many battles were won thanks to their ingenuity. They were the backbone of the Andalite military.

Menderash was a third-born. Their clan is one of the few that would be granted such a request. He was never a particularly great soldier, but it was rumored he was as brilliant an innovator as his great-grandfather, Calysen-Postill-Maestill, who invented the handheld shredder. I was nervous when I first met Menderash, but I was ultimately surprised by his personality. He reminded me of Marco, in some small ways. A brilliant and dangerous mind wrapped up in a playful personality that distracted you from the genius inside. However, where Marco was crass, calculating, and often rude, Menderash was always welcoming and kind. He used his influence and status copiously, but always invited his friends to enjoy his perks. Because he himself is so well known, he was not at all intimidated by me, Prince Aximili of Earth, and I found this comforting. When we first met, I was well out of my depth in the military. I was a Prince, but I had never formally completed my aristh training. It was a difficult time for me. He aided me, and lent me his credibility and influence. We became very close. I promoted him to First Officer, even if he is not nearly the soldier that he is an inventor.

He was not without fault. He would often suddenly become sullen and petulant, going from open and friendly to withdrawn and taciturn simply because something did not go his way. He is impatient with those who are not as brilliant as him. He traumatized many of the arisths on my ship with his brusque teaching methods. When I finally spoke to him about this behavior, he snapped at me, and told me I was Earth-softened. He refused to apologize for the comment. That was two nights before the events on the Intrepid . It is much of why I was in a restless enough mood to lead the away team myself.

None of that meant he deserved this fate. I knew he enjoyed his human form possibly even more than me, but that is not enough reason to willing give up his tail blade and stalk eyes. What had happened? What would ever possess him to become a nothlit ?

Now, he was crippled on top of it all.

He slept for almost the entire first day we were in Z-space. I stayed by his side, feeling both wild and numb with my grief for The Intrepid and for Menderash. In time, Menderash woke.

He forced himself upwards with difficulty. Humans were already so desperately unbalanced, and now Menderash has to suffer through his life missing an entire arm. He had already gone from six limbs to four. Now, he had three. My hearts beat with a guilty and sympathetic quickness, and I felt a fervent longing for my stolen memories. What had happened? Was there anything I could have done to save Menderash his fate? Had I made a mistake? I was sure I had made a mistake. Perhaps I understood Prince Jake's isolation more than I thought. If I had been able to run the mental video of the attack on the Intrepid again and again in my mind, I may also have wished to never leave my quarters.

I leaned over to help pull Menderash upwards. He recoiled from me. "Do not touch me," he said."You have already suffered more than enough indignity by coming to see me." He spoke in Andalite, which is difficult enough to understand when coming from a human mouth. To make matters worse, his words were mangled and slurred, likely from the chemicals that Sergeant Dean Santorelli had fed him. There was a significant delay in my response as my translator noisily attempted to decipher this new language, which was, of course, impossible. I temporarily shut it off. I could still understand him, but just barely. I shifted my body, so that my face was in front of him, and he was unable to avoid looking at me.

Please, use thought-speak, I said. He lowered his eyes in response.

"I do not deserve the elegance and and simplicity of our language," said Menderash. "I am no longer an Andalite."

I looked upon him for a moment, observing his new form. I was, of course, intimately familiar with his human morph. I was no stranger to the pleasures of the form, and Menderash invites many "to his bed", as it were. Andalite intimacy was sacred, but human intercourse could be shared between friends, like a friendly tail fight or a round of driftball, and we had shared it many times. His form was attractive enough to arouse me as a human, but I had never given it much consideration outside our intimacy sessions. After spending three years on Earth, I had ceased to see humans as cheaply made Gedd and had found a certain sort of attractiveness in them, much like a horticulturist may find a student's first awkward seedlings to be endearing. As I stared at Menderash, I found him to be something of an exception. In certain lights, his human form was attractive even to an Andalite. His eyes were large and gray, almost like a pair of main eyes. The lips surrounding his mouth were reasonably thin, making his mouth less disturbing than most. His hair was long and pleasantly arranged. Longer, now, that it had time to grow naturally.

As I focused on his human form, I found myself changing. I, too, was becoming human. Not the child morph I had created from the Animorphs. That morph was too young to be taken seriously by other humans. Estreens occasionally experimented with aging a strand of DNA back and forth, but for a morpher with average skill, it was a difficult process, somewhat akin to the human Animorphs years long effort to morph thicker artificial skin. I was not interested in pursuing the option for my old human morph. That form held too many painful memories, as well as the DNA of a fallen soldier. I had not been close to Rachel, and yes, I had been deeply disturbed by her toward the end; but I felt her loss all the same. After all, we had been something close to friends, in the beginning. She had taught me about artificial skin, and introduced Tobias and I to the excellent drama Dawson's Creek.

I had acquired a few of Earth's most powerful leaders during a summit as a showing of trust, and had a new human morph as a result. I chose to be male again, and aged myself somewhere within a human's second decade, which is largely considered the most important decade of human growth according to their entertainment. My coloration was somewhat different than my old Earth form, and it was made up of new shapes. It is the morph with which Menderash is most familiar.

"Am I no longer an Andalite?" I asked out loud when the morph was finished.

Menderash made a human expression I would classify as a 'sneer', and then placed his remaining hand on the left side of his head. He pointed up a finger. He then pointed that finger at me with a slight curve, clearly mimicking a bit of stalk eye language that meant disapproval. "You will have these back in four solar light periods, Aximili," he said. My name was thick and clumsy on his meaty human tongue. It was impossible for humans to say our names properly without thought-speak. It is why I never minded "Ax." The shortening of a name was unheard of in Andalite culture, but Ax was somehow more comforting than the humans balky attempts at the elegant slides and lilts of my true name.

I gently eased his hand off of his head, switching to thought-speak. It does not matter to me if you have stalk eyes. You are still you. You are still brilliant and kind.

"I became a nothlit, " said Menderash, bitterly. "I had to become a nothlit. It was a necessary sacrifice to find you. I would do it again, and again. But now?" He indicated his missing left arm. "I am deformed. I am no longer worthy."

Please, I said dismissively. You are drug addled and maudlin. I do not care from nothlits or vecols, not after fighting side by side with them. I maneuvered myself to sit next to him. I took his hand in mine. He attempted to pull away from me, but was too weak to be successful. I gently moved my thumb back and forth against his skin in a soothing motion. He relaxed.

A vecol finds peace and dignity in isolation, he said, finally switching to thought-speak. I was relieved to no longer strain to understand him, but he was also losing consciousness again.

Not you, I said. Your mind is too important to lose. I buy us time and allow you to heal. When you are strong, will work something out with the Electorate.

Then, because he was in a place between wakefulness and sleep, and because he was affected by drugs, and because my hearts had gone quiet with the weight of it all, I asked, Why did you do it all?

Menderash smiled, close lipped and delirious. Because you are my shorm , Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, and because right before you disappeared, you managed one word to me and me alone .

I froze.

What did I say to you? I asked.

You said "Jake," said Menderash.

An Andalite has two hearts. This is not a concept I thought significant before my time on Earth. Humans idealize the "heart" as the center of emotion, which seemed quite foolish to me at first, as a heart is a muscle that pumps blood through the body. I used to kindly correct my comrades when they spoke of their heart having emotions. As time went on, I understood that it was a form of poetry, something any Andalite should respect. Now, I think of my two hearts in human terms, only I have adjusted the lore to fit myself. I have grown up on two planets — Andalite first, then Earth. I have become a creature of duality and contrast. It is possible for one of my hearts to feel one thing, and the other heart to feel the direct opposite emotion.

With my Andalite heart, I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness, warmth, and humility at Menderash's sacrifice. I had managed to speak to him through our bond, and he had listened, and he had organized my rescue. Andalites are instinctively optimistic people, a source of both pride and trepidation for our species. Right now, I blossomed with light, and I did not want to darken my joy. I wanted my bright Andalite heart to glow with Menderash's commitment to me. I wanted to share in it, to commit myself to him in return. Menderash was quite special to me, and to know that I was special to him by not just his deeds, but the fact I was able to communicate with him when we were so far apart, was such a beautiful and important piece of knowledge and I felt I might burst from it.

My human heart was cultivated in war. It was dark, and it was suspicious. Menderash was an impulsive person, driven by the moment rather than the future. He was clearly beginning to regret his sacrifices. My ability to communicate with him through duress may not have been entirely me. If The One could listen to private thought-speak, then clearly, he could project my speech through barriers of distance and Z-space. Why else would my last words to Menderash be "Jake?" In my right mind, I would never rely on Prince Jake for a rescue. The last I had seen of him, he had been forced to morph dolphin at the other human Animorphs' naive behest. I had military training, and I knew the quiet did not go away so easily. In short, I had long ago given up on Prince Jake, as much as I was loathe to admit it. There was no reason I would have begged for Prince Jake. I do not believe it was I that spoke to Menderash in that moment, yet Menderash believed it was so, and had made choices based around that belief.

I melted back into my true form. Out of curiosity, I touched Menderash's cheek. I hadn't even touched him as an Andalite, nevermind explored the intimacy of his face.

His human skin felt coarse and plain against my hand, like fabric, like an object. It was not quite the sensation that had been often whispered of among Andalite youth.

I withdrew my hand, dejected and dark, and I watched him sleep.

—

I eventually left the infirmary. There was little I could do by hovering over Menderash. I did not see anyone else as I explored the halls. While I felt a deep gratitude toward everyone that had searched so long to rescue me, I felt that isolation suited my mood more than reuniting with my friends. I was sure everyone else on the Rachel shared my preference. I ultimately landed on the Bridge, watching the sensors. While I was there, I mused on what Tobias had told me about my time as The One.

He told me how deeply disturbing and frightening The One had been, and how The One had only allowed them escape by his own graces. It was an odd story to hear. At the center of it was me, allegedly aware enough to cry for death. I had absolutely no recollection of the events. At times, I would emerge from a battle with an injury to my head that hid many memories behind closed curtains, but I always had a few vague flashes of what I had done or where I had been. When my actions were recited to me from an outside source, I felt a vague tug of recognition. With this, I feel nothing. It is as if I had been teleported from the mysterious alien spacecraft onto the Rachel . My life had simply been interrupted. In many ways, I was glad for it. Perhaps I do not wish to know what happened in that alien spacecraft. I do not bear the burden of watching my crew die. I do not have a mental recording to rewind and watch again and again, regretting every move, replaying every horror. Though I did know I was reckless in joining the away team. Perhaps if I hadn't, perhaps if I had stayed on the bridge, perhaps —

It is difficult not to dwell.

There were three arisths on The Intrepid , all female. I tried to use my influence wisely, and bringing more women into the military was something I was very proud to do. Their names were Meinathan, Uhael, and Dalia. They were the best and brightest in their arisths' class. It was my fault they had been on The Intrepid at all, and my fault they were gone.

There was the sweet pilot Warlatan. He was talented, but nervous, and idolized me to the point that it affected his work. Menderash would often mock him for being quite unattractive, which was very inappropriate of him. I felt guilt over letting Menderash say such things, even if Warlatan was never in thought-speak range, and even more guilt that I had found many of Menderash's jests amusing. Warlatan was nothing but sturdy and kind, and he was dead.

Pilots Tariall, Sathan, and Marasia had always resented my status as Prince, feeling that it was a smoke and mirrors move done by the military to save face in the light of poor decisions. I had worked hard to win them over and, at the time of the event, had made little headway in the matter. They were gone. They had died despising me.

I thought of Yandera-Shartan-Dalarrouth, the beautiful on board mechanic, who always seemed to be feeding when I fed. She would speak to me with an audacious familiarity, even if I was a Prince and she was a mere mechanic.

I missed them so terribly. I felt heavy with ghosts. My legs trembled with their weight. I see their faces no matter where my eyes rest. Yandera, Warlatan. Menderash.

Menderash.

I forced myself to find balance, to sooth my dark human heart with my Andalite one. I mourn next to my old comrades. Tobias, my shorm, for all he had not acted like one for three Earth years . Jake, who was once my true Prince. Marco, who is also here. This provides peace. I also find myself wondering at my decision to join the away team on the alien spacecraft, and asking myself if the decision had truly been mine. Yes, I was frustrated with Menderash, and yes, I was much more interested in firsthand exploration than a typical Prince, but the coincidences piled on much too neatly. I had been the tool of the Ellimist, and now, perhaps, I had been the tool of The One.

I felt violated, used. I felt angry. I felt deep sadness and loss. I felt joy and warmth at the loyalty of the Animorphs.

It was an imperfect balance, but it was enough for now.

I studied the sensor commands. They were, admittedly, hard for me to tell. I am not entirely trained on many modern devices due to my quick promotion from aristh to Prince. My Animorphs friends always thought so highly of my technical skills, but back on Andalite, it is well known I should not be left alone with computers. This ship — the Rachel , a heartbreaking and fitting name — had been outfitted with modern Andalite systems. The controls were slightly above my outdated knowledge. Out of curiosity, I started to play with the sensors, just to ensure they were working as they should. Somehow, I almost took us out of Z-space and into a system with a dying star, a jump that would have depleted all our energy supplies and left us dead in space with no hope for return.

It was minutes after that mishap that Marco walked onto the bridge and said "Ax, catch."

My hands flew off the sensors and I held them in air in a classic Earth motion, one that meant 'My hands are up! I'm innocent! Please, do not shoot high velocity pellets into my chest from your primitive weapon!'

Whatever Marco had thrown hit my chest, and then fell on the floor.

Marco looked at me strangely. "Yeah, okay," he said slowly. I noticed that Prince Jake was trailing behind him. His hair was wet, meaning he had recently cleansed. I got the singular impression, especially with what I had witnessed the last time I saw the two together, that Jake had only bathed and left his cabin at Marco's harsh insistence. Jake's expression was entirely blank. I wished Marco had left him alone, and let him stay in his cabin. I very much dislike seeing my first true Prince suffer from the quiet.

Marco distracted me by pointing to the thrown object. "M&Ms. I won't lie to you, I brought some other things to give you in case we, you know, were successful, but after about five months of vitamin pills, freeze dried nutrition packs, and exactly zero leads, I did what I had to do. Sorry, man."

I picked up the package of M&Ms and smiled at him. I admire your restraint. I will save this, and savor it at a later time.

"Savor? Later? My God , have you changed," said Marco, flopping into what must be a sort of Captain's chair. It was much too large for a human. This ship had been designed by Yeerks for Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, and human needs, then refitted by Andalites for a mostly human crew. The end result was a ship filled with strange furniture and mismatched things, many with purposes at which I could only guess. "Jake brought some food for you, too, but that stuff went, like, week one." He swiveled around and stood on the chair, peeking over the back to stare at Prince Jake. "Right, BigJake?"

Jake simply shrugged. Marco stared at him for a moment, then slid back into a proper sitting position, no longer facing Jake. His expression momentarily twisted into a human look of disgust, and then immediately melted into Marco's normal relaxed charm. "How are you, Ax-man?"

I am mourning the entire crew I was tasked to lead while reconciling my apparent possession by an omniscient beast, both events of which I have no memory.

"Ah," said Marco flatly. "That."

The doors opened and Tobias flew in. He landed on what looked like a broom attached with human "duct tape" to the weapons sensor. A makeshift perch on a bridge specifically designed for a red-tailed hawk, looking strangely not out of place among the other various Yeerk amenities. What an odd ship.

I acknowledged Tobias with my right stalk eye, just before remembering he would not understand the meaning of the gesture.

It is passing strange to be among humans again. I have been a human-influenced Andalite for so long that I am forgetting how to be an Andalite among humans. The irony is not lost on me. Among Andalites, I am often considered to be vague and inscrutable. Due to thought-speak being our first and only language, the concept of an accent is hard for most Andalites to comprehend, yet I suppose I have one. I forget to send or read certain emotional impressions sent through thought-speak, because the Animorphs had never quite picked up on receiving or sending those nuances. I shrug my shoulders, nod and shake my head, and hold my arms and hands in certain gestures unknown to my Andalite crew. My sense of humor is not understood at all by either Andalites or humans, as it's an oddly shaped Frankenstein of both cultures. At least, that is what I tell myself. Perhaps I am simply not very funny. (That was, of course, a joke.)

Among humans, I was simply an alien. Much of what I do was written off as otherworldly without any attempt to understand, though I would always try to use their body language and navigate their quirks anyway. Undersecretary Cassandra Gardner was the only one to truly appreciate my efforts. She was not on the Rachel, a decision I respected. Undersecretary Gardner is often the only human the Andalites will listen to, and while I would never say this in public, sometimes The Electorate needed to listen to a human.

I always knew Tobias would listen if I chose to explain the many aspects of stalk eye or tail blade communication. He would be genuinely interested, and ask me challenging questions. This, and so many other reasons, is why he is my shorm. It is also why I have been so angry with his complete lack of contact for the last three Andalite seasons. We spent so long dreaming of a simple life away from the confusing bustle of human cities that I had naturally assumed he would return to Andalite with me one day. Instead, he flew off into the wilds, and I hadn't even gotten the chance to offer.

I let my right stalk eye return to a figure-eight pattern. Hello, I said to him.

Hey, Ax-man, said Tobias. His thought-speak was layered with dull, repressed emotions that I couldn't quite make out. He knew that speaking with a plain tone while allowing another to read your emotions was the only dignified way to use thought-speak, but he often had difficulty either knowing to project or turning off his projection. I got the feeling that he did not wish to project right now, but was struggling to keep his emotions down.

Marco craned his neck to look at him. He rolled his eyes and looked away. "How long until we rendezvous with the Andalites?" he asked me.

Around three of your hours, I said.

Marco pointed at me and grinned. "No. No. Not today. This is an Earth ship, and the only hours we've used for the last six months are the only hours that matter."

I smiled at him. Ah, but the Andalites set up a standard unit of time to use in space travel decades ago, I said. It was, of course, our standard Andalite time measurements, which are the only sensical measurements in the galaxy. Your use of human time is an aberration.

Marco made to respond, but was interrupted by Tobias. I didn't miss this joke, he said. Earth isn't the only planet, alright? Let it go.

"Jesus," said Marco under his breath. The air grew awkward. Prince Jake went to the navigation sensor and sat down. He started working with the controls, which made me nervous. I admire Prince Jake, but if I had nearly damaged the ship by attempting to use the navigation sensor, then Prince Jake definitely would put us in some sort of danger. To my surprise, he pulled up an Earth "video game." I was both impressed and shocked that the Animorphs were using Andalite tech to play racing games. Did Menderash install that for you? I asked.

Jake glanced over at me while Marco swung his legs to the side of the chair, dangling them across the edge. "Nyah," said Marco. "The Yeerks had A/V ports installed for whatever fucked-up Yeerk reason. I just figured out how to switch display modes. Figuring out the sensor screens was my personal project for the first couple of weeks, specifically so I wouldn't be bored to tears when I was stuck up here manning navigation." Marco looked at Tobias. "You got anything fun to say about that?" asked Marco harshly.

No, said Tobias immediately.

Another silence fell in the room, uncomfortable and ugly. I shifted nervously. I have spent time with Marco, Cassie, and Prince Jake on the very rare occasion, but it was always in a very public setting. This is the first time so many of us have been gathered privately in a room, with a chance to speak frankly and openly. The six months in this dark and cramped Yeerk ship had done the Animorphs no favors. While we were never going to be as close as we once were — if you even considered partnerships formed with war to be a form of friendship at all — this reunion felt wrong.

The doors to the bridge were clear, and I could see Jeanne Gerard approaching the bridge with my stalk eyes. She took one look at us, then turned away. Perhaps she thought this wasn't a moment to interrupt. If I knew her better, I would have called her back in. I would have loved a distraction from the awkward air between us.

I watched as Jake failed to complete a race. He set his controller down and leaned back into his chair. "And then how long until we're back on Earth?"

Ah, I said. I have not fully accessed the damages to the Rachel, and I do not know how long a full repair could take. However, there is a shuttle dedicated to bringing visitors to Earth and back. I believe it ought to be leaving in the summer of tomorrow's day which, in Earth parlance, is roughly three days, five hours, seven minutes and thirty seconds from now. This is merely an estimate, as I am still orientating myself after my time… away. Forgive me for any errors.

"Three days," Prince Jake repeated, staring at the screen in front of him. An eight Earth-second animation loop played over and over. He watched it, transfixed, as if it held some sort of answer.

As I watched him, I noticed my vision fog, just slightly, as if a black haze was descending upon all four of my eyes. I stalled my stalk eye moving patterns in an effort to shock it away. It worked. I had never experienced such a phenomenon before. I would be sure to tell a medical examiner about the situation. Perhaps she would know.

"Well," said Marco, suddenly swinging his legs forward and bouncing out of his chair. I had not missed Marco's inability to be calm. It made me feel dizzy now just as much as it did back then. He made a sweeping gesture toward the ship. "I know The One said he was going to play hard to get and make us chase him around all the galaxies, and I hope someone takes up that invitation and you both have a really nice, terrifying time. Me? You know, I spent so much of my teen years with the Death Wish that I started thinking about the good times. All the adrenaline, the swooping in and out of the air as a bird, the rush after one of the maybe four battles we really won. I went a little Belle there for a second. You know, Beauty and the Beast? Hot chick ends up horny for the literal monster that captures her? The Death Wish had me in Stockholm Syndrome, straight up. Now, I'm done. Over it." He slid his hands together up in the air over and over, a human gesture I knew to mean 'wash my hands of this.' Humans considering washing of their hands to be a miracle ward against all disease. "This spaceship adventure was my last con. I'm too old for this shit, I'm retiring, I'm done." He held out his hands. "Screw you guys," he said, then he pointed to the left, "I'm going home."

My vision fogged again. This time, it did not clear.

Okay, we get it, said Tobias.

"I can't believe I did any of this in the first place!" Marco continued, misinterpreting Tobias's frustration as an opening to continue one of his "amusing" rants. "Do you know what my life was like? Can you even comprehend it? Britney Spears came on to me! Me! Not the other way around! Okay, she was shitfaced, but she grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and slurred 'You are so brave' and made very specific eye contact —"

Shut up! said Tobias. I felt myself begin to buckle. I recovered with flourish. No one had noticed. Tobias and Marco were staring at each other, and Prince Jake was staring at his video game.

"Jeeze, Tobias, chill out. What's wrong? Is it that time of the month? Are you laying some eggs?"

For the past six months, I have been listening to you complain and complain about what you 'gave up,' as if the moment you walk back on Earth you won't immediately start sucking up to Hollywood and go right back to getting drunk and sleeping with models. So go! Get to it! The rest of us are decent people and will work toward destroying the omniscient evil that's torturing the galaxy, he said. His anger and resentment radiated from his thought-speak without filter.

Marco opened his mouth, as if he were to volley words back to Tobias, but Prince Jake spoke first. "I'm not going, either," he said.

My vision filled with smoke and I smelled decay, sick and sweet, and when I came back Tobias was morphed to hork-bajir, Jeanne and Santorelli were on the bridge, and Marco was staring at Prince Jake with an open mouth.


	2. Chapter 2 - Marco

"I'm not going, either," said Jake, and then there was a hissing like a chorus of furious snakes.

All of us looked to Ax, all of us pitched in tune and knowing, _knowing._ He was flickering again, but this time the speed was less "Michael Flatley's Legs" and more "Madonna In Her Later Years." It was a slow kind of change, a methodical shuffling rather than something uncontrolled and manic. I took it as a good sign, but sort of in the way that a crazed psychopath coming at you with a mere handgun was better than a crazed psychopath who was armed with a bazooka. It also didn't grow the mouth again, which was a relief. I don't think I could ever look at that thing again. When I'm back on Earth, I'm committing myself to a smear campaign against red lipstick. I'll bury it with mom jeans and comb overs.

There was a sharp _thud_ , and then a clattering of plastic. The Playstation controller had slipped from Jake's hand and he was staring at it like some depressed ingenue in a European movie about adultery.

I slipped into the coldness of my mind, where strategy and logic make everything clear and simple. Don't get me wrong, I was scared shitless, but I was going to assess the situation before I started to full on panic. Maybe I flip out when I think birds are staring at me too intently, but this? Actual, real, tangible danger? This I could do. I knew how to stay scared, but not start to worry until it was necessary. The One made it clear we were on it's fishing hook, so after the initial shock of The One's mega B.O. wafting through the air, it was easy to accept, because _of course._ Of course we can't have it easy. Of course The One left a little calling card in Ax. I should have seen this a mile away.

I started morphing gorilla, because giving myself defenses was an obvious step one. I saw blades start to spurt out of Tobias's feathers.

If you do not chase, then how I will I learn how to be a hero? The One said. As much as I didn't want to see the mouth return, its thought-speak was way worse than hearing it talk out loud. Its multiple voices tore at my mind, bouncing off my skull and gouging at the bone.

Jake's breath quickened. He wasn't morphing. He hadn't even moved. He just sat there, staring at the floor, shocked and entirely unhelpful. Great.

I sauntered forward, fully gorilla, and put myself between The One and Jake. There are plenty of movies and books about our story, I said. Sold at every bookstore on Earth. You should check those out, especially since I get royalties from most of them.

I did not ask you, said The One, looking past me and focusing on Jake with all four eyes. I am speaking to the Yeerk-Killer.

I waved a hand in front of The One's face. Well, then here's lesson one: I'm the one who talks. I give the answers, I tell the jokes, I impress with my wit. You wanna chat? You chat with me. I jerked one giant black thumb toward Jake. Him? Figurehead. I just let everyone buy the story that he was our leader. What can I say, I don't really like attention.

The One wasn't buying it. He took a few steps closer to Jake, his hooves tapping across the ground in a hauntingly Ax fashion, a quick _click-click_ of an Andalite's hooves connecting with hard floors they were never designed for. It made my heart clench, and that made me mad.

Hey, I said. I lumbered over to him. I said talk to me.

The One held out a hand and I went flying into the weapons sensor command. Pain blossomed through my body, but it was the gorilla's pain, dull and familiar and easier to shake off than my own. Still pain, though. Still not great. It knocked the wind out of me.

It also managed to turn on all the warning lights again, which was annoying, and was sure to send Dean and Jeanne to the bridge. It also made Tobias freeze in that way he did sometimes.

Earth to fucking Tobias! I snapped at him. Then, Well, space to Tobias, I added.

Nothing.

This had been happening on and off over the last six months, and Tobias would always act like nothing was wrong afterward, no matter how hard you pressed him on it. I mostly didn't care, seeing how it sure as hell wasn't my job to sort through Tobias's bullshit, but right now, I was _really_ wishing someone had made him face all his bird demons. I kind of needed the backup.

The One continued his way toward Jake. All four eyes were still trained on him, which could be a very good thing. Maybe that meant it had other ways of seeing, but maybe it meant it was so sure we wouldn't hurt Ax that he didn't need to be vigilant. I hoped it was the latter. Omniscient space god was terrifying and undefeatable. Stupid omniscient space god was different. I could deal with stupid.

Jake finally stood up and looked at The One. Jake's eyes were dull, dead. They flickered from The One's stalk eyes and down to his main eyes, over and over.

They stared at each other for far too long. Just before I could butt in with another delaying tactic, Jake said, "Leave me alone." It wasn't a command. It was a whine.

I cannot, said The One, almost pleasantly, if you could say hearing multiple voices in your head going off all at once and ringing off your skull like a snare drum "pleasant." Unless you promise to teach me, Yeerk-Killer. Please. I must learn how heroes fight.

Jake closed his eyes.

Now, listen, Jake always looks old. He _feels_ old. It can be draining to even be next to him if he's in one of his downward spirals, which is almost constantly. He gets this air about him, a sort of pressure, like the weight of the world that he had hoisted on his shoulders had a full on gravitational pull. But just then, when he shut his eyes, he went beyond exhausted and old. He became ancient and mythological. He was Jesus on the cross, he was Sisyphus with the boulder, he was Alfred dealing with Bruce Wayne's bullshit. He was empty. He was tired.

He was pushed against a wall and he had no intention of fighting.

"Fine," he said. "I'll fight you. I'll give you chase, I'll play tag, whatever. Just — fine. _Fine._ Only me though. No one else."

Seriously? I said, frustrated and angry and shocked at my complete and utter _lack_ of shock.

Jake looked at me then, as if he were doing me this huge favor, as if watching my childhood best friend roll over and expose his belly at the first sign of danger was a gracious thing for me to appreciate. He shot me this broken little smile, a sad little martyr smirk, and all it did was piss me off. I started demorphing. There was no point.

The One flickered, projecting the rat-trap android. I wish to learn, it said.

"Then I'll teach you," said Jake.

The smoke and the smell left as suddenly as it came, leaving behind a swaying Ax. His stalk eyes starting spinning wildly. What — he started. The door opened and Jeanne ran in, closely followed by Dean. Jeanne ran for the sensors, typing in whatever input chain would shut up the fucking alarms. The room went silent all at once, revealing a shocked and confused Andalite, two very worried morphers-in-training, one frozen bird, one Jake, and me.

I was never particularly good at biting down on my anger as a teen. Who could blame me? I was saving the fucking world. Once I became an A lister, I had to learn how to slow down and count to ten. When you're that famous, people are just _looking_ for a good story. _US Weekly_ will pay people a lot of money for an anonymous tip or two about my juicy set behavior. I had to swallow down my words, even when I was so pissed off that I couldn't see straight.

If it weren't for that training, I'd be screaming at Jake right now. Not just yelling, _screaming._ Top of my lungs, sore throat tomorrow screaming.

I pushed past everyone, exiting the room as fast as I could. I heard someone following me and spun around to face them. It was Dean, looking as sweet and concerned as ever, and I spat the word "Don't," at him as if he were a family dog. He didn't follow me.

—

We had a few hours to pull ourselves together before the big rendezvous with the Andalites, and that really wasn't enough time for fucking anything. I could feel myself coming unhinged, my whole body closing in on me in a way I hadn't really felt since I left Earth. It wasn't just that the presence of The One still inside Ax — it was everything. The trip, the trip ending, the uncertainty of what would happen back on Earth, and the _absolute_ certainty that I would never see Jake again. It was all falling down on me, all at once, sick and evil. I was getting hit with emotional acid rain and I had _no_ fucking interest in dealing with any of it, but it's not like my shitty, broke ass brain ever gave me a choice! As soon as the door to my escort suite was sealed, I hit the wall with both forearms and screamed. Then, all in one motion, I spun around and knocked the back of my head against the wall. I slid down like some lovestruck chick in a shitty 80s teen movie, too full of bullshit feelings to stand. I hugged my legs to my chest and buried my face in my knees and tried, _tried_ , to focus on breathing, but it was so fucking hard when I was vibrating out of my own fucking skin.

Thankfully, I had a little friend by my side, and his name was Don Julio.

I pushed myself upwards with weak and shaking muscles, tears streaming from my eyes without my permission. I jerked toward the cabinet where I kept all my best booze and pulled out the last bottle I had in there and drank, small sips at first, then deeper. It didn't help, not at first, not while the alcohol was simply attacking my too empty stomach and burning me from the inside, setting up the foundations for the later buzz. I went to my mini fridge and pulled out my third to last can of Coke. I opened it and drank, chasing the tequila, then flopped down on my couch without closing the refrigerator door.

I drank from the liquor bottle again. I don't typically allow myself so many empty calories outside a human morph, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

I sat up, then leaned back against my couch, slouching. I alternated between tequila pulls and chugging Coke. In time, I felt like I was glowing from the inside, and that meant my goal had been reached. Just for good measure, I drank the good stuff again. You can never go wrong with too much Don Julio. At least, I can't. I've had hangovers, but only for about five minutes as I slowly push my way through a morph while lying in bed. Thanks, Elfangor. I really owed that guy.

It was a miracle I had any booze left at all. We had no way of knowing how long we'd be on this godforsaken ship and Earth pit stops weren't on the menu, so I'd smuggled in as much liquor as I reasonably could. I thought it'd last a good while, but then I broke down Dean Santorelli's shell, and that man can _drink_. I mean, it's definitely due to size more than anything else. I feel like, proportionally, I've got him beat by a landslide, but I had to earn that. Dean? He was built like a tractor that was designed to pull around other tractors. He made Jake look like, well, me, and then he made me look like Shirley Temple. It was nice to look at, hard to intoxicate. When we were back on Earth and finally free of this hell ship, he wouldn't just owe me a drink, he'd owe me an entire trough.

I look around at the little kingdom I'd created for our indefinite journey; my home sweet space home. Caysath and Menderash had helped us smuggle in a few U-Hauls worth of comforts, and the escort cabin I'd claimed as my quarters was outfitted to the nines. I'd brought a sweet entertainment center, a ton of bookshelves full of games and movies, and a sectional couch that was upholstered with bright red suede. The bedroom area had a king-sized bed, an armoire full of clothes only Menderash appreciated, and a hell of a lot of porn. I had the best damn situation in the whole ship, which was a waste, because Dean was the only one who ever hung out in here.

I looked up at the air vent that lead into my lounge area. According to Menderash, this ship was designed to escort high level personnel from one end of the galaxy to another. That meant we were quick and well armed, especially for our size, and that we also had pretty decent internal security. If some kind of Alien Blackbeard came looking for us and managed to get past our cannons and board us, then there were multiple security measures in place, including a couple of self-destruct measures that impacted the airlock but left the rest of the ship alone. If someone managed to get past _that_ , then the crew was fucked, but all the Vissers were safe as houses in their beautiful cabins. The doors were some kind of indestructible alien metal and when they closed, they _closed_. Nothing can get through, and I mean _nothing_. Worried about dracons, shredders, or any other terrifyingly powerful weapons? Unless Alien Blackbeard is on a suicide mission, you're safe, because energy shields are fabulous things. They even had the oxygen and water pipe situation worked out, a bit of engineering that was probably put in place thanks to the antics of my adorable fourteen-year-old self. The door to my bathroom could seal completely, just like the door to the outside hallway, and the bathroom was the only room with plumbing. The airflow through the ship could block itself off and switch to a small in-room oxygen tank. Pretty much safe as houses, even from an alien as small as a Helmacron.

Not so safe from an Animorph.

The Yeerks had adopted many things from Earth. Namely, our comforts. I'm pretty sure most Andalites were happy with some dirt and a poem to ponder, but the Yeerks had a taste for human entertainment, and had installed a ton of electrical outlets as a result. I mean, why give the coffee machine or television some kind of alien makeover when they work just fine? _The Rachel_ was both military tank _and_ cruise ship, and plugging in a microwave was one small way to make the trip a luxury one.

Now, sure, electrical outlets were maybe a problem for a Helmacron, but _not_ an issue for my best friend, the _Blatella germanica_.

I felt myself focusing in on the outlet my minifridge was plugged into, like a zoom out on a dolly push-in. Everything else in the room blurred and softened, and only the outlet showed as sharp in my vision. I tightened my grip around the Coke can, feeling my lungs begin to constrict again.

I don't know if The One could morph while possessing Ax. It'd thrown a massive fit about needing another Andalite host body, and it hadn't minded being a _nothlit_ Andalite copy, so maybe morphing wasn't even on the table for The One. Maybe it needed to be an Andalite full time. That seemed likely, but I wasn't about to rest on it. If The One _could_ possess Ax, and it _could_ morph, and Ax had a roach morph, The One could find me at any time. Of course, I had absolutely no idea what The One could and could not do, but was I really going to risk it based on odds? I knew from experience that if something could happen, it _would_ happen.

I drank more tequila and stood up on shaking legs. I went to a drawer in my armoire and pulled out the duct tape we'd used to make a few places for Tobias to perch throughout the ship. Jeanne had brought it, because she's some kind of Girl-Scout-slash-Femme-Fatale-slash-Probably-A-Robot, and she had actually packed _duct tape_. I pulled out a huge chunk.

See, I'd tested it all out, back when I _really_ didn't trust Dean or Jeanne. I could morph roach, mosey around blindly in the electrical circuitry for a while, and end up in the cafeteria. I looked up the circuitry for the ship and it's pretty easy to get from point A to point B if you had a goal in mind and memorized the pathways. I broke into Jake's cabin, once. He was sleeping and he never found out, even if I had to morph and demorph to make sure I didn't get stuck. I got to see a little bit of the sad way he lives. He kept his visiting area clean, but Jake's actual bedroom smelled like cigarettes and farts.

I gulped down more liquor. At least I never took up smoking. I drank away my childhood trauma, like a _normal_ person.

Very carefully, I went around the room and unplugged everything I had. Sorry, TV. Sorry, Gamecube. Sorry, lava lamp. I sealed off every electrical outlet in my suite, meticulously blocking off each piece of plastic with three long strands of duct tape, all set in perfect horizontal rows. I got everything set up, and then I went back around, double checking everything and smoothing over creases.

When I was done, my cabin looked like it was under construction. Everything had been moved to the middle of the room in order to give me access to all the outlets. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

I started laughing, wild and alone in my upturned suite. I found the Don Julio bottle and drank, then laughed again. I looked around. I was standing in a tornado of insanity, but was it insane? My alien friend was possessed by Gozer and he could potentially, possibly, _maybe_ morph. I've gotten where I am today by refusing to be sorry instead of safe.

I went to the bedroom area and slid under my bed. There was a box there, ridiculously ornate, and I opened it to reveal a shitton of sentimental tokens. A photo of me and my mom from when I was a toddler, years before Edriss; a letter that Rachel gave me on Valentines during the eighth grade that contained the sort of heinous insults only a thirteen-year-old girl could come up with; a little Army man Collette had given me as a joke. I dumped it all out on the bed and flipped the box over, sliding back a decorative panel and revealing a latch for the false bottom. Nothing was more uncomfortable than someone else's weepy shit, and I knew all that nonsense would distract anyone from thinking about at the contents of this box for more than a second.

I removed the decoy part of the box and took out the real reason I'd commissioned it at all. I held it in my hand. It was small, square, and black. For all the world, it looked like a beeper, something that was already horrifically old fashioned even after just three short years. However, back then, everyone had one of these. You'd never think twice about someone with a black square hanging from their belt.

Unless you were Jake, Ax, Tobias, or myself. We knew the slight differences, could see the way the were a bit too heavy and pulled belts down a little too deeply, noticed the top was made of black glass rather than black plastic. This wasn't a beeper. It was a Dracon beam in disguise.

Listen, the war's end was messy, and loose ends dangled every which way. You want an alien gun that could destroy an entire building? Hundreds of ex-hosts needed cash for their divorce lawyers, or therapists, or brand-new drug addictions! Any of them would _love_ to have a few extra thousand on hand, and most of them had no use for all the tech the Yeerks had left in their homes. Really, all I had to do was stand in the middle of Santa Barbara for about ten minutes, pick my nose, and then I suddenly had three of these guys. Yeah, morphing was great, but it took forever and tanking a Dracon blast with your own body fucking sucks. These days, I wanted some added protection on hand.

I fell face down onto my bed. I felt heavy enough to maybe, possibly, _please god let me_ sleep for the first time since we'd rescued Ax. When we met with the Andalites, they could page me over the ship's intercom.

I kept my hand curled around the dracon beam, and I didn't really fall asleep.

—

I arrived on the bridge _just_ as we connected with the Andalite dome ship _Blossom._ I'd exhausted my Joey Lawrence jokes earlier and no one else was secure enough in their masculinity to get my Powerpuff Girls ones, so I just quietly joined my silent and solemn comrades as an Andalite elevator thing sucked us up, up, and away. After my semi-nap and a few more ladylike sips of tequila, I was feeling alright. Loose. Correctly, appropriately loose. You can't be a worldwide celebrity in my situation and _not_ learn how to present yourself after drinking. I had to go from flipping out in my dressing room to smiling on set in under five minutes. It was an art form, really. Too tipsy and you're Dean Martin weaving at his own Roasts, but _slightly inebriated_ and you're Don Rickles holding the holding the whole thing down (two glasses of red wine, and you're my mom sitting down her six-year-old son to watch weird old people he'd never heard of insult each other.) It's all a spectrum.

We emerged from the elevator and stepped into the dome ship. Suddenly, we were surrounded by goddamn _lighting._ Normally, Andalite decor's whole "Hello Kitty Coloring Book Meets Seventies Bedspread But It's All Blue" thing gave me a headache, but after six months in a Yeerk coffin, I was ready to move into the _Blossom_ and spend the rest of my life enjoying weirdly egg-shaped furniture.

We pushed Menderash around in a wheelchair we'd found in the _The Rachel's_ infirmary, but he was way too out of it to really comprehend what was going on. I don't know who made that decision, Menderash or Dean, but I was jealous either way. I was also mortally offended that Dean never explained exactly _how_ much morphine was in the infirmary, or brought up the oxy, or benzos, or any of the fun things he had going on in there. What do a bunch of morph-capable people need with painkillers? They need chilled out nights watching Monty Python and quieting their inner demons with pharmaceuticals, that's what they need. Oh, I _might_ forgive him, but it'd take some time.

The first thing we did was take some kind of purple mist chemical shower, in order to get rid of space lice or whatever. Ax explained it all, but I was way too unfocused to care. Unfortunately, the Andalites didn't need us to take off our clothes. A shame. I was really looking forward to finally unveiling Jeanne Gerard. Would you believe that we'd spent six months together and she _still_ wouldn't sleep with me? Maybe she'd managed to see past all my charm and truly take in the writhing hell creature inside, but that probably wasn't it. I bet she was engaged. To duct tape.

I laughed a little at my own silent joke. What's so funny? asked Tobias.

"Your face," I said.

Great, he said. This.

Dean came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I don't normally dig contact that I can't see coming, but I knew it was Dean, and I liked him.

"You alright?" he asked me.

I thought about apologizing for my tone earlier, but I didn't. He'd get it, or he wouldn't. It's not my fault he ran after me. I just leaned against him a little, just for a second, and said "I'm fantastic."

He squeezed my shoulder a little. "Alright, man," he said. "Take it easy, okay?"

Dean gets it.

When the Andalites had deemed us cleansed, we were ushered into what I assumed was the Captain's ready room. There were no chairs, obviously; Andalites had no use for sitting. But there was a huge screen at the front, and all manner of plants. The seven of us stood at attention— well, except for Tobias, who perched on Ax's tail, and Menderash, who just sort of drooled or whatever. Ax stood front and center. That was usually my spot, but on Andalite, Ax was definitely the better spokesman. Cassie knew some shit about talking to fancy military Andalites, but I as I never envisioned myself in this particular situation, I only knew basic shit like "don't make direct eye contact" and "turn off the jokes, Marco, it just confuses them." I tried hard to center myself and remember what else I had learned from meeting the occasional leader with Cassie, but it was hard. All I wanted to do was slip into a dopey smile and talk about my secret and unironic love for Cher's music. Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves? _Classic._ My mom's favorite song. They just don't make 'em like they used to.

A bunch of Andalites burst into the room, all of them bigger and older than Ax. I squared my shoulders, ready to do the talking, but Ax walked out ahead of me. His tail was held high, like it always was when he did press for Earth. It was some kind of Andalite status thing. Two of the old Andalites pitched their own tails even _higher._ Was I witnessing some kind of Andalite dick waving contest? Could I play? I laughed, and Jake gave me a look.

The biggest and oldest Andalite took a step toward Ax and lowered his tail blade, which felt like some sort of bow. The _derath_ seed that was once thought gone has sprung in winter, he said.

Ax nodded solemnly, which made one of the other old Andalites shift a bit. Let us reflect on unsprung _derath,_ said Ax.

The Andalite next to him mimicked the nod in a small, subtle way, which made the first guy give a little Andalite smile. While everything Andalites do looks both majestic _and_ cute as a button, I had a gut feeling that smile was some kind of sinister smirk. After all, it takes one to know one, and I'd done more than my fair share of subtly making fun of a presenter or two at while sitting backstage. Ax either ignored them or didn't notice.

The main guy moved a stalk eye toward us. It is an honor to meet you, Animorphs. I am Elrenyl-Taradrath-Balentul, War-Prince of the _Blossom._ Thank you for returning Prince Aximili to us. We owe you a great debt.

"I want a pony," I said, the words slipping out of my mouth without thought.

Tobias sent me a harsh Marco, but Dean chuckled. Good ol' Dean. He really respected a joke. I liked Dean. I was going to miss Dean. He had pitch perfect impressions of, like, _every_ Simpsons character. It was outstanding. I'd need to get him an audition with Lorne when we get back. You know, Lorne Michaels? I'm very famous.

Too bad Jake won't get to see Dean's first season on Saturday Night Live. Martyrs just don't have time for such frippery, what with voluntarily walking into their own deaths without putting up even the tiniest fight.

Marco Ruiz-Champlin, as you know, is someone other humans consider 'funny', said Ax smoothly, as if he were translating for me. I blinked in surprise. As a result, he often says things in jest, in an attempt to make the other humans laugh. When they do not he grows surly, and doubts his place in society.

"Oh, wow," I said. "These guys actually think you're some kind of expert on human things?"

I am, said Ax, sounding offended, maybe slightly hurt. I just laughed. The Andalites all looked at me with their main eyes, then turned back to Ax.

Ax gave them a quick rundown of the events leading up to our arrival. When he got to the parts he couldn't remember, he looked toward me, as if to pass me the story ball. I felt Jake's hand on my shoulder, and watched as he stepped forward and started to spin the rest of the tale. Well, good for him. At least he's taking some kind of initiative for _something_. He very carefully left out the names of the Andalites who helped him commandeer _The Rachel,_ which caused Elrenyl to interrupt him.

Is that... _thing_ not Menderash-Postill-Fastill in human form? he asked, indicating Menderash in his wheelchair.

No, said Ax quickly. Then, we all heard, It is difficult for one Andalite to lie to another. You must not let them know of Menderash's fate, not yet. Please, help me.

That was definitely my cue. I stepped forward and swept an arm toward Menderash. "This guy almost died protecting us! Look at him! He needs treatment, _stat!_ "

Jake sighed audibly. Maybe I was being a little over dramatic.

He looks _very_ much like Menderash in human form, said one of the other Andalites.

"Yeah, and you look like Ax," I shot back, "Who looks like Alloran, who looks like Mertil, who looks like everyone else. Turns out, aliens aren't the best at sorting out the features in another aliens. Ever try to pick one Hork-Bajir out of a line-up?"

The Andalites all stiffened at my mentions of Alloran and Mertil. Marco, shut up, said Tobias, sounding tired. Jeanne glared at me. Jake pinched the bridge of his nose.

I didn't react. Maybe the words had fallen out of my mouth without thought, but I wasn't about to take them back. The Andalites were such dicks about those guys. Even Cassie can't get them to allow Mertil back on the planet, and forget about Alloran! Which I have, because he wouldn't do a Pepsi commercial with me, even if it would have made us millions. Oh, sure, I already had millions, but if I had _more_ millions, I could _really_ dig into the whole rich, eccentric celebrity thing. I could develop a ton of condos based off of Lego houses built by two-year-olds and plop 'em right into WeHo. I could buy every copy of a dumb movie everyone remembers but no one likes, like _Fern Gully_ , burn them all, and watch as the world went mad trying to remember if _Fern Gully_ actually ever happened. I could buy every Super Bowl commercial spot and use that time to play Spice Up Your Life. Who knows, maybe I could finally buy something that would fill the raw, gaping hole inside my heart! Maybe I would finally feel again! _Jesus,_ Don Julio, you're really getting into it tonight, aren't you.

Also, the Pepsi commercials would have gone a long way to normalize Andalites to middle America, which is something that needs to happen if our nation continues to lead galactic negotiations. I'm shallow, but in a complex way.

Eventually, Jake sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. "He is a student of mine," he said. "We haven't seen Menderash-Postill-Fastill in ages."

Elrenyl stared at me with his main eyes. Jacob Berenson, he said, slowly and diplomatically, As we were very concerned about Prince Aximili's return, we asked for all news coverage of the situation to be imported from Earth. We are aware that Dean Santorelli and Jeanne Gerard were your students, he said. We heard nothing of a third student disappearing with the other Animorphs. I am not quite convinced. Rest assured, I will not punish you for associating with a voluntary _nothlit_ and a _vecol_. You are not an Andalite, and are not held to Andalite standards. One stalk eye pointed at Ax.

Jake let his hand drop. "No, really, it's a different guy. His name is —" he started, then paused for a little bit too long, clearly running through a list of his student names in his head and trying to come up with someone untraceable.

Before I could help out the poor boy, Tobias suddenly spoke up. His name is Todd Johnson, he said, which was, quite possibly, the most boring name I have ever heard.

I couldn't help it, I laughed again. Elrenyl's tail went even higher. Get it together, Marco! snapped Tobias, in what was probably private thought speak. I made a face at him.

I understand that sound as a human acknowledgment of amusement, said Elrenyl. What does this loud human find so amusing?

I shook my head, ignoring Elrenyl. Dean stepped forward and put a hand on Menderash's shoulder. Menderash reacted to the touch, and looked up at him dreamily. God, I wish I was Menderash right now. I'd love to be just completely blotto. "Marco thinks our relationship is funny," said Dean. He glanced at me, looking almost concerned, and then he looked back at Elrenyl. He swallowed and looked nervous. "Are you aware of the concept of 'homophobia?'" he asked, speaking very slowly.

I am not, said Elrenyl, directing his gazes toward Dean.

Dean nodded, then looked down at the floor. "A lot of humans think it's really shameful to fall in love with someone of your same gender, but it's what I prefer. I wouldn't leave Earth without … Todd, and Todd wouldn't let me go without him. We kept his involvement in the mission a secret, because if the news got out that I was in love with a male, I would be discharged from the military. He's very, very hurt." He seemed convincingly worried, sad, and lovestruck, which wasn't a surprise. Dean was an amazing impressionist and theatrical singer, and he knew a thing or two about acting. Oh, and he absolutely was a flaming homosexual who thought no one could tell because of all his muscles, even if that's maybe the gayest thing about him. That probably helped his performance a little.

War-Prince, I would swear my life that that is Menderash-Postill-Fastill in human morph, said one of the assholes who had been making fun of Ax. It is quite the famous morph. Half of the military has spent significant periods of time with him in that form.

You have not, replied Ax.

There was a weirdly tense moment where no one spoke. I swear I could _feel_ the suspicion in the air. Finally, one of the Andalites said, Who taught you humans how to fly a spacecraft?

This time, Jeanne spoke up. "I was infested during the war, sir," she said. "I learned how to pilot a ship during that period." She spoke slowly and was doing her best to hide her sexy accent. She sounded for all the world like a hesitant but otherwise typical California girl. Which, of course, she didn't need to do, seeing how the Andalites probably couldn't tell the difference between one accent and the next. What an overachiever. She was like a hot, French Topanga. I've never been sure if I have a bigger crush on her or Shawn, but if I'm being honest with myself, my heart belongs to Minkus. Was Minkus still in L.A.? Could I find Minkus actor and fuck him? Probably. I'm very famous.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. Jeanne's story had absolutely no basis in reality, I knew that for sure. Jeanne had been in England during the invasion, which she had mentioned, once, during one of the ping-pong tournaments. She still managed to really really sell it. She even tensed her body as she said the words 'that period,' as if it really were something she didn't want to talk about, and not something that she pulled completely from her ass. She was good. She was very, very good.

Elrenyl stared at her, then turned away. Humans are nonsensical, he said. He indicated the door. Fine. We will treat your friend Todd Johnson as best we can. In the meantime, please, follow me.

—-

We were led outside, which was probably the greatest thing to happen to me all year. We'd landed on planets a few times in our trip, but we never stayed for very long. Trying to find the Blade Ship had been like trying to find a needle in a haystack, which was in another haystack, and that haystack was yet in another haystack, and all these haystacks were randomly placed in the vast expanse of space. It gave us this weird sense of urgency, even if we'd had exactly zero leads and no idea where we were going. We had known where the Blade Ship had been at one point, and that point was getting further and further away from us as days went on. That made every wasted moment feel like time flushed down a toilet. Jake even made us leave the planet of the Sexy Pink Panther With Feathery Angel Wings People after barely four days, even if I think I kind of had something going on with the tribe chief's daughter. Jacob Berenson has _no_ taste for romance.

Getting to go outside while _knowing_ we had Ax was a whole different thing. Maybe it was the buzz, but I actually felt sort of _happy_ while walking on Andalite. I was breathing fresh air. I was stretching my legs. Sure, Jake had signed himself up for another suicidal mission because the first one didn't kill him dead enough, but I could take a minute to stop and smell the disturbingly neon yellow flowers.

I craned my neck up and looked at the sky.

I already knew the Andalite sky was supposed to be red. Ax had told us about that a few times, and he always made it sound very _Dawn Of The Dead._ I'd ask hey, Ax-man, what's it like having a sky the color of blood. He'd launch into some long tirade about how _our_ blood color was gross, that red was quite calming, and that human eyes were ill equipped to deal with real beauty. I'd ask him if humans were so terrible at graceful beauty, then how did he explain the bean scene in _Blazing Saddles._ Then he would go suddenly silent, which mean he was talking shit about me to Tobias in private thought-speak.

So I knew the sky was red, but I wasn't at all ready for the color being just absolutely _pleasant._ It was much less apocalypse, more gentle sunrise. You ever see a scene shot in the golden hour? A bitch to film, but it always looks great. Everyone and everything gets this romantic, soft glow. People start to look like moving paintings, all warm yellows and golden skin. That's the sort of light cast upon us from the Andalite sky. We looked like we were on the verge of quietly sharing first kisses and then smash cutting to a wide landscape shot with our kissing forms backlit against the golden suns. I hoped mine would be with Jeanne, but I'd settle for Jake if necessary.

While I was looking up at the sky, I saw a bunch of white dots streak against the sky, like airplanes back on Earth. It was weirdly familiar. I smiled.

Then, I saw exactly one black dot zoom in the complete opposite direction. My smile faded.

I pointed up at the sky. "Where are you taking our ship?" I asked.

Elrenyl pointed one stalk eye upwards. I'm not sure what you are referring to, he said.

I kept looking upward. "All Andalite ships are white. Ours is black. That black ship isn't going to the same place as all the other ships."

We have other Yeerk vessels in our possession, said Elrenyl, as condescending as he possibly could be. I glared at him. It is of no concern to you what we do with our ships.

"It is if that ship is the _Rachel,_ " I said. "My stuff's on it."

He rolled a stalk eye toward the Anti-Ax-Brigade. They shared the same sort of look that I knew, _knew_ , was an asshole smirk.

What you call the _Rachel_ is damaged past repair, said Elrenyl. Your 'stuff', as it were, will be returned in time. He turned a stalk eye toward the chucklefucks.

Normally, this is the part where I play dumb and pocket my suspicions until I knew more about the situation, but I just wasn't in the mood for that at the moment. "Bullshit," I said. "We made it to the _Blossom_ just fine, and there's no way —"

"Let it go, Marco," said Jake, sounding tired and angry. "Stop. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, but it does," I said, biting and cold. "Without your ship, how _will_ you go on your noble quest?"

Jake sighed. "I'll figure it out," he mumbled.

What is he referring to? one of the Andalites asked.

Jake licked his lips and glanced at me nervously. "We'll talk later," he said.

I glared at Jake. "Yeah," I said. "We will."


	3. Chapter 3 - Tobias

As soon as we landed planetside, my wings itched with a burning desire to just _fly._ I resisted, even if holding back all that restless energy was practically causing me pain. Thing is, you don't survive as long as I do without listening to your body, and it turns out that six months locked in a spaceship isn't mega-great for a bird! The Andalites really had not planned for me at all. Do you know how easy it would been to just have a cage of mice for me to snack on? Mice procreate pretty quickly. That's kind of their thing. Instead, there were just a few bags of falconer's treats in the kitchen, which are dietary supplements, not replacements. I was starving. I _needed_ to go on a proper hunt, but going off on my own was definitely not an option. So, no flying. I rode on Ax's tail.

For a while, it was nice. Peaceful. I think everyone needed the walk. Marco's drunk ass was asking a ton of annoying questions for a while, but eventually he'd fallen silent. That lasted for a whole ten minutes before he loudly asked, "Are we there yet?"

The sound of his voice clawed at my ears, making me feel itchy and mad. Marco had spent the last six months cycling through four moods. You'd get a couple of weeks where he was actually entertaining and pretty fun, like he was when times were almost good as kids; then he'd get all irritated and prone to snapping or having a fit over nothing; then he'd lock himself in his room and you'd see him even less than you saw Jake; then he'd be drunk. Rinse, recycle, repeat. I hated the drunk phase. I hated being around anyone who was drinking, nevermind Marco, who got that much louder and more obnoxious. He had been so rude to those Andalites, I was worried he was halfway to launching some kind of human versus Andalite war! Not that I cared. I mean, I'm a bird, I can't get drafted.

You couldn't tell him to stop though, oh no! Marco had auctioned off our personal stories for cash and attention, and had gotten way too much of both. Now, he was totally unable to comprehend the word 'No.' I tried to tell him to maybe _not_ wander around wasted, more than once, and eventually Jake told me to stop bothering with it. He said asking him to chill out only made it worse. The only thing you could do was wait it out, or hope Santorelli would distract him.

I was more than happy to get as far away from Marco as possible. I'm definitely sticking with Jake, whether he wants me to or not, only this time I'm going to make sure we get a couple of bunnies going at it so that I can finally have a good and proper breakfast.

I do not understand, said Elrenyl to Marco. You will know when we have arrived at the hotel. It will be visible. I apologize, I do not often work with humans. Is your eyesight so poor that you will require verbal confirmation?

Marco laughed and nudged Santorelli. Ax looked toward the War-Prince.

'Are we there yet' is a question with many layers, Ax said calmly. It is often asked by Earth children who are bored while traveling, much to the chagrin of mothers and fathers. At times, a human adult may use the phrase for comedic effect. Marco is aware we are not yet 'there.' He is more so wondering how much longer he will have to walk.

Ah, said Elrenyl. Do humans not enjoy a run after a long space journey?

"Maybe just a twenty minute one," said Jake, a little sheepishly. I think he felt bad that he was kind of out of shape, even if Marco was the one who started complaining in the first place. Seeing how Marco took every opportunity he had to make fun of Jake's body, I totally understood why Jake would be embarrassed.

"Look, we're from Southern California," said Marco, half shouting. He didn't really slur like my uncle, but he sure as hell got loud. He basically yelled everything he said. "We don't walk. We drive the three blocks to the 7/11, drive back home, buy bottled water because tap water tastes weird, and then we complain about people disrespecting the environment."

Southern California is the region of The United States of America where Santa Barbara is located, interrupted Ax patiently. 7/11 is a store, often located in a convenient location, where a human may purchase nourishment or other necessaries. Marco is currently employing a humor technique known as 'hyperbole', as a human would most likely not use a carbon emission vehicle for such a short distance.

"You would be surprised," muttered Jeanne.

I see, said Elrenyl. What is your point?

"Just that I'm too Hollywood for a hike," he said. "I'm enjoying our walk, sure, but in about twenty more of "our" minutes, these Manolo Blahniks are going to start _killing_ my feet. It can happen to men too, you know."

"Probably because you're wearing lifts," said Santorelli, smiling.

Marco gasped, theatrically bringing a hand to his chest. "What, me? Wear Hollywood man heels to give myself a the illusion of height? _Never,_ " he said.

I can't really explain why, but that was it for me. I couldn't sit here and listen to Marco suck everyone into forced, cheerful banter. I knew when he was putting on a show, and I didn't want to be an audience member. I pushed myself off of Ax's tail and rose into the sky, higher and higher, forcefully ignoring everyone's protests.

—-

I wasn't sure how long I'd been flying. All I knew was that I had already pushed my body well past it's breaking point, but I still wasn't done flying.

The Andalite homeworld was spectacular. Ax and I used to talk about what it was like, back in the day. He told me all about the gold and red sky, the almost eternal tropical weather, and the beautiful foliage. I always knew the updrafts and thermals would be amazing. They were. I wanted to fly forever.

Only I'd greatly overestimated my endurance.

I was definitely pushing my wings too far. I felt weak and shaky and soft. Once, I ate a poisoned rat, and kind of felt like this, but I realized what was happening and morphed it off. Morphing gets rid of poison. It doesn't really get rid of malnutrition. You can morph out of it for two hours, but when you return to your original body, it comes back from Z-space as is unless you have any glaring or debilitating injuries. I'd definitely figured that one out over the years. I don't know much about morphing tech, but I have a feeling DNA and Z-space know a lot about regenerating limbs, but not so much about the effects of hunger.

Every part of my body was telling me to land and rest, but I couldn't. Knew I couldn't. If I wanted to feel better, I needed to stretch my wings and then eat something. Anything. Alright, so I didn't know anything about the animals on Andalite. Maybe they were all poisonous to hawks. I wouldn't know. No one would, really. There was only one sentient hawk in the whole galaxy, and as a founding member of my own endangered species, trial and error was pretty much my go-to research method. If my experience with the poisoned rat was right, I could probably shake off the bad stuff and come back to my real body feeling full and happy.

Unless the morphing tech recognized Andalite nutritional compounds as healthy and didn't understand it was hurting my Earth body.

Whatever, dude. I was starving.

I flew and flew, taking it slow and easy, letting the Andalite thermals carry my body up and up and up. I couldn't get enough of this planet. The further I flew from the space base, the prettier it got. At first, I saw all these souped up versions of Ax's scoop, all spread out about a mile from one another. Rather than being just a literal hole in the ground, these scoops came with beautiful, well cultivated gardens, full of flowers and plants of every shape and color. The scoop "roofs" tended to be made from cerulean vines that twisted together in intricate patterns, like Celtic knots. Other scoop roofs looked like sky bouquets, all blue flowers and leaves that were artfully arranged. I wondered if scoop roofs were the Christmas lights of Andalite. Did Andalite dads have weird, unspoken rivalries over who could have the best flowers?

My thoughts turned to Elfangor and Loren. I tried not to fantasize about them too much, but now that I was really seeing my dad's homeworld, I couldn't help but think of them. What would have happened, if the Ellimist never intervened? Would Elfangor have gardened? Would he have planted flowering vines and climbing moss, covering our home with color and life, mimicking the lush florals of his childhood home? Loren had Elfangor had lived in Vermont, where rain wasn't as precious and plants could thrive. What would my childhood home have looked like? I think I would have had a backyard that looked like a fairytale garden. I would have make friends and brought them over for dinner and we'd all have eaten home cooked meals at a vintage, wrought iron table, talking and laughing. My friends would want to come over again and again to play at my dreamy, magical home.

I pushed the thought away. Sometimes, imagining stuff like that was just a really nice daydream. Other times, it made me really bitter and dark. I definitely needed to eat something before I wandered further down the scary road of what ifs.

I rested on a tree, briefly, when the shaking in my muscles got a little too intense. I watched a group of five Andalites play beneath me. There were three small ones. Two that were really tiny and one that looked kind of like Ax did when we found him, only purple. They were throwing a ball around, keeping it in the air with their tail blades. One of the little ones dropped the ball and the other little one slapped them with the flat of their tail blade. Immediately, the teenaged Andalite's own tail blade was at the kid's chest. The kid's body language tensed, and they flinched backwards.

The other kid trained a stalk eye on me and pointed up to the tree.

I pushed myself off the branch, even if it was the last thing my muscles wanted. I would rather pass out from physical exhaustion than I would like to talk to alien strangers.

I flew up and up, until I saw a cropping of trees that were much too thick to hold scoops. This must be the Untamed Wilds. Ax told me they were dangerous, but all I could see was a McDonald's for hawks. Finally, real meat!

I swooped down, focusing my eyes on all movement, trying to figure out just what kind of alien life lived down there and which one of them looked the weakest.

I sensed something behind me. I dipped down and flipped midair, a pretty weird maneuver for an actual hawk, but it was a great method to see behind me in a way another bird wouldn't expect.

I almost fell out of the sky when I saw the thing. It was huge. Really, really huge. Like, golden eagle, eat your heart out huge. It had to be giant, seeing how it had six wings. Three pairs in all. Its long body was segmented into three parts and it was really, _really_ fast.

Uh, I said.

The _thing_ looked at me and blinked. I immediately dipped around a tree. Weaving around branches was one way to get certain birds of prey off your back. Unfortunately, most of these Andalite trees didn't have a ton of branches. Some flared at the top, just slightly, but most were like huge sticks with bushes dropped on top. Not a lot of places to hide.

I flipped midair and got a good look at the monster bird. I think Visser Three morphed it, once, way back when, but that memory wasn't going to do me any good right now. Visser Three didn't exactly practice fighting in the same morph over and over. This birdie was _real_ , and it had to hunt to survive, and that meant I was toast if I wasn't careful. It was closing in on me, and _fast_. I caught air with my left wing and used my right as a pivot point, launching myself away. Typically, this is a good way to lose a predator. They don't have the advantage of using their bodies like a cool, tiny fighter jet.

My muscles spasmed and my stomach clenched. I was way, way not ready for this.

I twisted until I could see the bird.

He lifted his middle left wing up, just slightly, and kept his farthest left wing down. The wings on its right side pushed air away from him, all at once. He was using his wings like sails! It was like I was this canoe with two guys manually pushing forward on a river, and he was this huge competitive row boat with six dudes all working together to go exactly where they wanted. This guy was commanding the air. It didn't matter what way the wind blew for him, or how many updrafts he could get. He was a machine. A gift of evolution.

And he really, really wanted to eat me.

I banked to the left. He followed. I dipped low to the ground. He followed. I flew upward toward the suns, desperate, blinded by light and slowed by my own weak body. He closed in on me.

Back off, you dumb bully! I shouted to him in loud thought-speak, hoping it would freak him out and he'd leave. Maybe it wasn't the wittiest of insults, but I was desperate. I knew I had ideas, knew I could reach deeper within me and figure something out, but I was so hungry — so fuzzy — everything was —

I needed to morph.

But where? This wasn't any forest I knew, and morphing required a good two minutes of shelter. I need to get close to land and start, immediately. Cheetah normally did the trick. Where could I go? All of these trees were thin and useless. No wonder Ax was always amazed by all the biodiversity on Earth. Not much room for evolution with this crazy bird around! This big guy would decimate the competition. Survival of the fittest turned into survival of this one bird of prey.

I started spiraling, tired and desperate. My wings burned. Every push forward was torture. The bird was closing in on me. I had to start morphing, shelter or no shelter. Maybe Mr. Bird wouldn't go for my neck right away. Maybe it would just start eating the good stuff in my stomach, giving me time to switch forms while it chowed down. I've been there before. I could —

A flash!

The bird went down like a log. His dying, falling form revealed a familiar Andalite, staring at me with a look I knew was disapproval.

This was not a wise choice, said Ax.

I, uh — yeah. Yeah. Guess not, I said.

He held his tail out to me.

I'm fine! I said.

You are not. Please, I do not have the emotional fortitude to engage in a pointless debate over your obvious lack of well-being, he said. I could feel just how tired he was underneath his words. He wasn't lying.

I hopped on. I had ridden on his tail a few times when I was too battle weary to fly back to our home in the woods. He said he didn't really have much feeling close to the blade, so I didn't feel too bad about it. It was pretty embarrassing right now, though. I really did feel like a kid that got lost at the mall and now his uncle was making him hold his hand everywhere.

That was a _kafit_ bird, said Ax. They are one of the predators that used to prey upon Andalites when we were mere herd animals. They are very dangerous. The only reason I was able to defeat one was due to its fixation on you.

Yeah. I loosened the jar for you, I said.

Please do not joke right now, said Ax. I am very upset. The Untamed Wilds are not safe.

I'm starving! I said. Literally!

Ax looked at me with a stalk eye and there was something about the way he did it that made me feel pretty small. You have worried your comrades. Ax's tone was always even and all the other guys would kind of laugh at his lack of expressiveness, but I knew if you paid attention, you could feel all the 'vibes' he was sending underneath. Right now, I was picking up on some serious attitude. He was pretty ticked off.

In the past, Ax was always too cautious and reserved to really assert himself. Even when all of us were debating, he'd just reiterate that as an Andalite, he had no business meddling in human affairs, and that had pretty much been his stance on everything. Now, he was a prince, and had apparently gotten good at the whole disapproval thing. He'd grown a backbone, even. Part of me was proud to see him like this, but most of me was embarrassed he was pointing all this new authority at me.

I shifted my feet, getting a better grip on his tail. I'm sorry, I said, trying to send waves of earnestness to Ax. I really am. That was pretty impulsive of me.

Yes, said Ax. It was very impulsive to fly away from the group today.

He didn't add anything else, but I could still feel the anger and resentment coming from him. I'd been feeling it a little bit back on the _Rachel_ , but I just thought it was because of what he'd went through. I mean, he understandably had a lot of complex emotions about the whole situation. Now, he was _just_ frustrated, and all of that frustration was directed at me.

I had no idea why. The issue was definitely too difficult to deal with while my stomach was still so empty. Hey, uh, Ax, I said, my words small and tentative. Do you mind if I snack on this guy? I jerked my head toward the _kafit_ as best I could.

Ax turned one stalk eye toward the carcass. A _kafit_ does not fulfill all your nutritional requirements, but it will suffice for now.

I hopped off his tail and started eating. The meat was thick and bloody and still mostly warm. I don't really have a sense of taste, but I _can_ feel heat and texture, and believe me, this was the best meal of my bird life. I wanted to eat my fill and then some, but I was still enough of a human to slow myself down, and make sure I ate slowly and carefully. When I was done, I fluttered back up to Ax's tail. I was still muscle worn and exhausted, but the food was the first step toward real strength.

You are ready to leave? asked Ax. He still felt really angry.

Yeah, I said.

Please allow me to fight on your behalf, said Ax. I will protect us from further danger. More anger. More bitterness.

I still couldn't figure it out. Ax started to run in silence.

Hey, um, I said, desperate for conversation. If the _kafit_ bird isn't the best meat for me, then what is?

All proteins on Homeworld are digestible by the red-tailed hawk _,_ he said, almost as if he were reciting something. He was still annoyed, but at least he was distracted. There are five animals that are rough equivalents of the prey you consumed on Earth, both in size and in nutritional content. Of these animals, the _garian_ are the most prolific. They look somewhat like Earth rabbits, though they are hairless, very quick, and have no ears. However, I would advise you against consuming any _garian_ located near a _thiostill_ plant. They are red vines with large, purple flowers. I will find you a visual to ensure your recognition. Some subspecies have evolved to withstand the vine's poisonous make-up in order to make themselves unappetizing and deadly to predators. Were you to consume one such _garian_ , you would die within three Earth minutes.

I blinked. That's a lot more information than I expected.

I have looked into this issue previously, he said. The resentment was no longer an undercurrent. It was a big, giant waterfall and I was stuck right underneath.

I puffed up my chest feathers. Okay, Ax, I get it. You're mad. Just tell me why, okay? I asked. It could have sounded petulant to anyone listening, but Ax could feel my 'vibes' too, and he knew I was honestly confused.

With effort, Ax twisted his body to look at me with his main eyes, keeping his stalk eyes pointed forward to steer him safely. I wanted to take you back to Andalite with me, but no one could find you. I asked every time I visited Earth. Three of your years and nearly one of mine passed, and yet, there was no sign of you. I felt betrayed.

You had to hand it to the Ax-man. He could be a cagey guy about most things, but when he was mad at you, he held nothing back.

Oh, I said. I felt a shock of weakness shudder through me, mingling awkwardly with a sinking feeling of guilt. I'm — I'm sorry.

That is all? he asked.

It's all I've got for now, I said.

He ran even faster. The trees went from shapeless colors to complete blurs. Ax was running faster than I'd ever seen him run. Now, I was the one worrying about _him_ extending himself too far.

Hey, man, I said. Are you afraid of these woods? Seriously, I can morph. I'd be refreshed and ready to help you fight if something comes at us. Chill out, alright?

He said nothing, but I could feel his emotions. I didn't know if it was because he meant to share them with me, or if he was just suddenly so wild and untamed that he was radiating everything he felt without control. I was getting sadness, loneliness, frustration, fear. Honestly, they were all things I felt myself acutely, emotions that clutched me when the night got too quiet and my memories spun slowly toward me. I could feel my heart quickening and my lungs shrinking. Never a good thing for a bird, especially one that had just tasted its first morsel of actual meat in months.

Ax, what's going on? I asked, useless and lost. I could tell he was going deeper into the Untamed Wilds rather than leaving them. I was pretty good at juggling flying distance, time traveled, and Ax's speed in my head. With how fast he'd been running, we should have been back into the developed areas by now. We were not. The trees were only growing thicker and weirder.

Ax didn't answer me. I dug my aching talons deeper into his tail, my heart going hummingbird fast. We were going at highway speeds, eighty miles an hour, dodging thorn branches and wet flowers with centimeters to spare. With every step Ax took, I felt more panic. With every step Ax took, I grew more understanding.

A lot had happened to him. I'm no expert on emotions — I can barely understand my own — but Ax had lost his entire crew and his body, and he only knew how it happened because of stories told from strange mouths. All he could do is accept the stories, and paste them upon the blackness of his mind. The more he ran, the more he pushed his body past the limits I knew he had, the more I started to feel for him. We never had a bond like Gafinilan and Mertil, but I think we had a sort of something similiar. I could feel the ghosts of Ax's thoughts, sometimes, when he was feeling things intensely, when both his hearts were full. I don't think the others could. If they did, then they weren't paying enough attention to feel it. I knew I hadn't felt any emotional ghosts from any other Andalite. Even Mertil, who had become a sort of roommate to me after Gafinilan passed. He and I stalked the same forest after the war, two broken halves, running and flying and never catching up to what we were looking for.

Ax was the only family I'd ever known. The first family to accept me, to even _like_ me. Whatever that meant between Andalites gave us some awareness of one another, a sense beyond most. It wasn't very deep, we had n't dug wells into one another, but we had dug deep enough for us.

Ax was in pain, so Ax was running. I understood that better than anyone.

—-

For what must have been nearly an hour, I rode on Ax while he not-so-metaphorically ran from himself. He kept up the same insane speed until he actually collapsed, his front legs buckling first before he fell down entirely. I let him lie there, breathing shallow and fast, making a sort of rumbling, purring noise that I could recognize as a sort of Andalite wheeze. While he recovered, I morphed cheetah. Once I was muscle-coiled and powerful, I stalked a circle around my friend.

You told me, once, that Andalites had made all their predators extinct, I said.

Yes, said Ax, his thought-speak coming in weak.

But the Untamed Wilds are still dangerous, I said.

Yes, said Ax. Prey creatures must cope with violence and trickery, and they possess their own sort of danger.

True, I said. I paused my pacing. Do you feel better? I asked.

Ax was silent for a moment. No, he said.

That's okay, I said. I paced around him again. I scratched up your tail pretty bad. It's still bleeding. Sorry about that.

I do not care, he said.

I stopped pacing for just a moment and really took Ax in. He was lying on his side, which was the least dignified of any position he could take. I'd seen him tuck his legs beneath him as a comfortable way to relax aching muscles every now and then, but I hadn't seen him on his side since he was dying with the _yamphut._ He was wheezing. His main eyes were watery and a much darker blue than usual. His stalk eyes were hardly moving.

There was nothing I could do about the trauma he'd experienced, except to let him feel his own sadness. So, I just kept pacing.

Nothing came toward us. I think my presence made them wary. Most animals are smart enough not to mess with something they don't understand. Sure, that _kafit_ did, but he was just a big bully who needed to prove something. Now I was tan and spotted and smelled like nothing he had smelled before. Just walking around Ax and spreading my scent was probably enough to protect Ax from the dangers of poison-filled Andalite-mice and smarter _kafits._

I circled around him for a long, long time. Ax stopped wheezing, but he didn't get up. I started to feel safe enough that I left him for a while, searching for one of the _garians_ Ax had mentioned before. I found one and stalked it for a while, trying to figure out exactly how I would hunt one in my regular form.

Eventually, Ax stood up. He shook, slightly, but seemed about okay as he was going to get. I trotted up to him, then sat on my hind legs and looked at his main eyes.

Do you want to go back to the spaceport? I asked. I watched the sky. I think I can figure out how to get back based on their positions. I was pretty proud of that, to be honest. You could drop me in the middle of nowhere on an alien planet and I'd still find my way home. I was and always would be the Animorphs' eyes.

He fidgeted on his hooves, like a human who was adjusting their weight but a bit more pronounced. I do not think I want to go back, he said.

I licked a paw. There was a bit of wood (if anything on Andalite could be called wood) stuck in my claw and it was bothering me. We can stay out here for a bit, I said, But we should probably go back before people worry.

It is not that, said Ax. I am not hiding from society.

I —

Allow me to clarify, said Ax, holding out a hand. I blinked. Ax never used to interrupt people. I am not making an indirect comment about avoiding responsibilities. I simply do not want to go back, not yet.

It's okay if you were making an indirect comment about me, I said. I'd understand. This body was starting to feel bulky and prickly, but Ax was still visibly shaking. I wouldn't demorph until he looked better. I stretched out my front legs. I should have checked in with you, I blurted out. I see that now. I just always thought you'd go back to your real planet and, you know. Just hit restart and be happier in a new life.

And I should not have been impatient with your mourning period, said Ax. I got some feelings of unease from him, as if he wanted to say more but wasn't going to. I didn't push it. Some people in our situation might have needed a bit more conversation, possibly some crying and some tears, but not us. We took each other at face value. I believed what he said, and he believed me. That was enough. If he wanted to say something else, then I trusted him to say it later, when he was ready.

He looked up through the trees with his main eyes, as if he were in the middle of a ritual, with his face turned toward the suns. I, too, can read positions from our astral bodies. I believe . . . I believe some secret part of me was propelling me toward my parents' scoop. If we fly, we could be there in exactly ninety-eight Earth minutes.

I wanted to start demorphing. I didn't. This body suddenly felt comfortable and safe. It wasn't a hawk, my chosen and preferred body that required so, so much explanation.

Oh, was all I managed.

I know you are anxious, said Ax, But I must go to them soon. They are sure to be worried. This is the second time they have thought they had lost me.

Oh, I said again.

Tobias, said Ax, turning all four eyes toward me, Will you please accompany me?

I knew I was unnaturally still. I hadn't moved since I realized what Ax wanted.

Do they know? I asked after an eternity of silence.

Yes, said Ax. I will not tell you that they accepted it in whole, without periods of disbelief or anger at Elfangor's perversion.

Perversion? I snapped, my already weakened emotional state allowing anger to swell within me.

As I did, said Ax, his thought-speak soaring in loud over my outburst, They soon saw the romance, the passion, and the love in his story. They know you are brave and kind. They will be thrilled to meet you.

I looked at him, noticing his fur was matted and dirty, his hooves were dull, and his stalk eyes were still hardly moving compared to an Andalite's regular vigilance. Slowly, I started demorphing. I was so reluctant that it was like forcing my way upstream on a river, but I did it. I gained back my feathers and my hollow bones and my beak. I was full, but my body still felt a little wonky. That made me weirdly mad. I was on my way to meet my grandparents with the bird equivalent of unbrushed hair and stained pajamas.

Would they notice?

Ax's main eyes were so, so dark. I think it was a sort of Andalite version of a burst blood vessel in the whites of his eyes. Ax wasn't doing too great, and he needed to be with his family more than I needed to prepare for our meeting.

I drew in as much air into my lungs as I could. Ax was already morphing into a _kafit._ When he was done, I nodded my head.

Lead the way, Uncle Ax, I said.

He launched into the air. I followed.


	4. Chapter 4 - Aximili

My run had been necessary, though unplanned. I did not feel better, nor did I feel differently. It is just that I have felt, and have allowed myself to feel, and I am distantly aware that that is in some way meaningful.

We flew over the Untamed Wilds and toward my parents' home without further incident. I demorphed at my father's pond, hiding among the rocks he'd placed there. My father has an aptitude for waterscapes, and he designed this pond himself as a youth. I leaned over the still water, and I took a moment to ponder my reflection.

I understand much more about morphing technology now than I did as an _aristh_. The technology is something of a happy accident, a result of exploration in an unrelated field, and it is difficult to control in they way we use it. It was originally designed without DNA restoration in mind, but once it was discovered that morphs would return from Z-space unharmed, healing was programmed in. Yet the line between what must returned healed and what must be left alone, such as a misbehaved warrior's _unschweet_ shearings, is difficult to program. This results in an inconsistently returned body. I have lost limbs and they have returned, yet the scarred tissue from a burn suffered as a child still left a bald spot on my left flank. How minor injuries manifested when I regained my true form was always guesswork at best, even for someone as knowledgeable as Menderash, and he claims that there is nothing that confuses him.

Dirt from my time shamelessly lying on the ground had washed away, and my tail had mended from the wounds left by Tobias's talons. The morphing had not soothed my matted fur, or brightened my hooves, or straightened the drooping in my stalk eyes. I was in dire need of grooming. The One had clearly had no concern for my physical appearance, but I had, admittedly, not done much to rectify the situation in the days between my consciousness returning and now. It seemed trivial. My eyes were still filled with blood, an unmistakable sign of stress and exhaustion. I should have had an associate contact my parents on my behalf, and then I should have rested back at the spaceport, preparing my body for my parents' acceptance. At my age and with with my status, it was wildly inappropriate to show myself in such disarray.

I did not care. I wished for them to meet Tobias. I _needed_ them to meet Tobias. With both my hearts so heavy and my mind so contemplative, these introductions were a needed piece of happiness. It was imperative that Tobias experience Andalite culture in its fullness. He must meet my parents. He must meet my _garibah._ He must reach deep into his roots and pull from them strength, so that he may blossom and grow with beauty and grace. He is Elfangor's son, and he is my kin. My people are wary of our own optimism, but we are optimists all the same, and my family folding Tobias into its fabric is a small gift of joy in an otherwise dark situation.

I blinked my main eyes rapidly, attempting to wash away the dark blue blood and return them to a healthy light green. Of course, it did not work.

I turned toward Tobias.

There is a ritual, I said, brushing at a particularly knotted patch of fur on my chest with my tail blade, For parents meeting their children's children for the first time, traditionally performed four days after the birth. It is the closest ritual for this situation.

Alright, said Tobias.

I could tell he was nervous. I was nervous as well. Neither of us were feeling our best, and my parents did not know this was happening. I knew I should leave and spend time preparing more fully for this moment, but I was uninterested in formalities. They would accept Tobias, for he was of our blood. He would listen to my father's stories from his time in the military, and feel awed by his grandfather's brave deeds. He would watch my mother work on our family's welding, and admire her delicate fingers as she transformed dirty metal into sleek ducts. Tobias was our family, just as his father had been. I have wished for my parents and Tobias to know each other for so long, and I would have this moment now, when I needed it most.

I shifted my weight, fidgeting from one hoof to another. A terrible habit of mine, one that the War-Princes and Princes who opposed me mocked mercilessly, often in range of my stalk eyes.

I have never had to perform this ritual, of course, but I have seen it done. It will be close enough, especially as this situation is unique. It doesn't have to be perfect, I laughed, another strange habit from Aximili of Earth, a thought-speak mimicry of a sound I could not make. After all, you are far from my child.

I mean, I guess, said Tobias. Ax-man, maybe we should —

Come, I said, walking toward the main part of the scoop.

Tobias did not immediately follow. I rose my tail, indicating he should perch. Dutifully, he did.

I had not been to my parents' scoop in some time. It is very different than mine. It is larger, for one. My status as Prince requires me to live close to the spaceport, and the homes there are much smaller than the family scoops. My scoop is also much less cultivated and, unfortunately, far more cluttered. Menderash and I share a home, and he has a penchant for unnecessary physical possessions. I do not even know where he finds half his things, or how, exactly, they are meant to contribute to our household. For instance, he owns seven staplers, all of different sizes and colors. He has no idea what they do, and yet they are displayed in our grazing field.

While my scoop is an artless display of strange materials that Menderash hax collected, my parents' scoop is much more naturalistic. The path to the living quarters diverted and curled around various ponds and streams, and my father had made perfect use of _enos ernarf_ and _enos milayr._ Light peaked through branches and cast intentional patterns upon the water, patterns that had different meanings contingent on the positions of the suns. My father's choice of color was many layered, and the poems told within his plants changed in tone depending on where you stood. All Andalites had an innate and intimate understanding of nature, but for my father, waterscapes were his peace. It was a noise he could create against his warrior's quiet. It is well known that Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf's scoop was more stunning than most.

Not for the first time, I wish I had grown up here.

We were growing closer to the living quarters, where at least one of my parents would inevitably be. Please, perch upon my shoulder, I said to Tobias. He complied without a word. I do not prefer him on my shoulders, as I am much more sensitive to his talons there, but we cut a striking figure. I walked forward.

I do not often see my parents. When I returned from Earth, there was a brief period when we were close, before I accepted my position as Prince. I was still mourning the noble death of a dear comrade-in-arms, the sudden absence of Tobias, and the bittersweet loss of my Earth life. My parents brought me in, and they showed me comfort. They were patient when I fell into my own quiet, and gave me space. They brought me specialized grasses, and made sure my body acclimated itself back to proper Andalite nutrients without sickness. When we ran as a unit, they slowed themselves, to allow my smaller legs to keep up. I aided my father in his landscaping, and he gave me calming tasks that were within my capabilities. I continued my apprenticeship in building, learning how to craft the ducts just so to not allow any precious water or air to leak. It was a gentle and soothing period. Toward the end, I almost felt as if I were nearly a whole and complete Andalite.

This lasted a mere sixteen days, the rough equivalent of a human month. It quickly became apparent I had become nearly as alien to them as I had been to my human friends. It started when I casually mentioned that I appreciated humanity's many different languages and cultures. My father said it lead to constant barbaric wars. I agreed that that was appalling, but continued to explain the merits. When two cultures meet and merge, beautiful art is often a result. For instance, without the cuisine of Mexico developing independently in California, we would never have the sublime taste experience of a Crunchwrap Supreme.

My father could not separate my support from my opinions. He heard my praise as criticisms against Andalites, and accused me of truly becoming "The Treasonous Aximili of Earth." He retreated, and did not speak to me for a four day.

My mother made further attempts to bond with me, but we constantly came to blows on the subject of humans. It is common on Andalite to rewrite the story so that I am the hero and not Prince Jake, and to ignore the Earth versions of the stories as human hubris. I worked hard to dispel these rumors, though it did little good. When my own mother told me that I exaggerated their accomplishments, it hurt me deeply. I tried to explain the merits of humanity to her over and over, and she would not listen. I never even spoke of Elfangor and Loren. I had leaked the story to the media, or what passes for media on Andalite. It was a known thing. My father had acknowledged it, but I was too scared to directly speak of it with my mother. I knew she would not have accepted its truth, and that lack of acceptance would have hurt me. So, I became a Prince, moved closer to the spaceport, and I rarely contacted them.

My mother could not argue with the physical existence of Tobias, the second-chance _nothlit_ that could morph. There was no other way to accept Tobias's reality than to accept Elfangor's choices. Perhaps if she met Tobias, her views on other humans would soften.

I looked at Tobias with my stalk eyes. He was nervously preening his feathers. He did not want to do this. I did not care. I was a Prince of the People. Before that, I was Aximili of Earth, a soldier fighting under Jacob Berenson. It is rare I allow myself to act as Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, unconcerned with others' needs. I felt as if I had earned it.

I carefully pushed away my feelings of unease and allowed my mind to open. It is gentle and respectful to announce oneself with one's mental essence. On Earth, it was customary to perform the jarring task of 'knocking' against a door. I have many negative things to say about Earth, perhaps more than I do positive ones. I wish more people understood the complexity of my feelings, rather than casting me as a _nothisshorm_ for having a few positive thoughts.

 _Nothisshorm_ translates, quite directly, to 'alien fucker.'

I stood in front of my parents home, and I waited.

I heard, Aximili-kala!

My father made his way toward me, unaccompanied by my mother. This was to be expected. Men spend their youth serving in the military, while women learn the arts and sciences. When a man's military career is over and he chooses a mate with whom to procreate, he is allowed to rest and raise the young, while the woman continues to support her family's status by contributing to our culture. It is almost a complete role reversal of human standards, all of which I now see as pointless. Undersecretary Cassandra Gardner would be suited for our structure, but faces ridicule by her own people. My father fits his role well, but on Earth would be torn apart for being effeminate. Women on Andalite are discouraged from military service, yet Rachel Berenson had been the fiercest warrior I'd ever known.

My father was projecting an overwhelming sense of happy surprise. I returned it as best I could. My Andalite ancestors had communicated with pure emotion before they had discovered words. It is an embarrassing thing to do in public, but happily accepted within family limits. We delighted in each other's joy, until my father saw Tobias. At once, his happiness disappeared, and was replaced by trepidation and concern. He had seen Tobias through some of my Earth photos, but would not expect him in the flesh. I sent him what I hoped was a soothing sense.

This is Tobias, I said, holding out my hands in an Earth gesture of peace. My father flinched. He disliked my human tendency to emote with my arms. I let them fall slack on my side.

My father looked at Tobias with his main eyes, then looked at me. He kept his left stalk eye trained on Tobias, curved into a position that meant he was wary and suspicious. His tail was held at the ready, as if he expected Tobias to attack. That frustrated me. I was sent the joyful news that you were found, Aximili-kala, but I did not expect to see you so… soon.

Of course. He was shocked at my appearance. I shifted on my hooves. He watched me with a careful expression, but I knew he was suppressing an urge to reprimand me. I calmed myself, then relaxed my tail blade so that it rested nearly atop my back. This is a much more familiar Andalite gesture of peace. I'm not sure why I used my arms first. Perhaps I am regressing into my Earth habits, now that I was in contact with the Animorphs again. I could not wait. As you know, Tobias is Elfangor's son, of Loren Theresa Helvig, a human. In lieu of either of them, I will introduce him as a new family member. It is unconventional, but I believe it is fitting. A seed—

Aximili-kala, said my father, sending me a calming feeling. There is no need for a ritual. The situation is much too atypical. I froze. Rituals were deeply ingrained in the culture of my people. They were our sunrise and sunset, our prayers and our structure. When there was no ritual to be had, my people would adapt. It was almost heresy for my father to forgo that tradition. He glanced at Tobias with his main eyes, then attempted a smile. He sent a soothing sense to me, and I did not trust it.

I felt Tobias's talons dig deeper into my skin. Yeah, um, said Tobias. It is really weird. So. Hi.

My father looked Tobias over with his right stalk eye, curved in a position that was used for polite interactions with strangers and not for important interactions with family. So you truly are sentient, he said.

Uh, said Tobias. Yep.

I stepped forward. Tobias was part of the crew sent to rescue me. It is quite a story.

I'm sure it is, said my father. He looked like he wanted to say something else, and was carefully choosing not to do so. Please, come inside, Aximili, he said. He said my name, and not Tobias's. Let me administer _eilashan_ to revive your dulled fur. He turned, and walked toward the heart of the scoop. I followed dutifully, my main eyes blinking in embarrassment. I am a Prince and nearly four years old, the legal age among Andalites. My father should not be soothing me with _eilashan_. In Earth terms, this is as if my father was styling my hair with homemade ceremonial soaps that I should have started making for myself years ago. Perhaps this is not a perfect analogy.

We arrived in silence at the heart of our scoop. Two Andalites spending time silently is not notable, but Tobias's complete lack of communication was entirely notable.

Are you alright? I asked him privately.

Yeah. Yeah, he said, though I got the sense that he was lying. It's fine. He seems like he's, you know, adjusting. I would too, if my kid just randomly showed up with my grandson.

Give him time, I said.

Yeah. So he's going to help you with your fur, right? Nice digs, by the way. You always told me your Earth scoop wasn't anything like a real Andalite home.

Of course it was not. Andalites are a civilized species with advanced technology. We do not live in holes in the ground, dug up by morphing underground creatures. Our scoops have large gardens, often meticulously cultivated by former soldiers. The actual 'scoop' is much more akin to a human basement, with a retractable roof on top.

Yeah, said Tobias. Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.

You have said 'yeah' six times.

Yeah, said Tobias.

My father brought me to our enclosure, guiding me to where we kept our medicines.

I spoke publicly. Father brews his own _eilashan_ , and his fur gets many compliments. He is quite talented.

Thank you, Aximili-kala, said my father brusquely.

I don't really use soap, said Tobias. He was speaking privately to me, perhaps to lighten my mood. I'm more of a water-dirt-and-beak kind of guy.

I craned my neck to look at Tobias with my main eyes. I had learned how to turn my head around to face my human friends, as even Tobias found it "creepy" to speak to my stalk eyes. I spoke privately. You can speak to my father, he—

Aximili! interrupted my father, his stalk eyes almost straight up with surprise. He blinked rapidly. What are you _doing_?

I quickly turned my head back around to a proper position. It is alright, I said, sharing calm feelings with my father. It does not hurt when you have practiced enough.

My father reacted with a sound a human would call a "sigh." It is something I have a tendency to do, but am far more careful about reigning it in than my other human mannerisms. To make a noise from your respiratory system is exceedingly rude in our society. Inside a private scoop, the rules were loosened, but the fact my father would do such a thing in front of Tobias told me much about his opinion.

Please, Tobias is your kin! I said. He is here, in front of you! You must accept him!

Look, I can go, said Tobias, this time to both my father and me.

My father looked at Tobias with his main eyes, but kept both stalk eyes standing tall. It was the first time he had acknowledged Tobias in a respectful way. I know your story, he said. You have been touched by the Ellimists.

I looked at him with my main eyes, suddenly suspicious. My father had never addressed the Ellimists before.

Um, said Tobias. I guess that's one way to put it.

Carefully, my father applied _eilashan_ to something that amounted to a human 'brush.' He focused all four of his eyes on the task, a very rare thing for a military man, even someone as many years retired as my father. To many Andalites, the Ellimists are foolish folk tales known as The First Andalites. To me, they are not.

My father began to administer the _eliashan_ to my skin. As a child, I had loathed this ritual, finding the constant pulling on my fur to be painful. My father learned to mix his _eilashan_ with some mild sedatives to soothe me, and it appears he had continued this practice. I not only felt my fur become cleaner, but I felt my muscles relax, and my head become clearer.

I have told you how your mother and I met, he said. We were schoolmates, and she was much beloved by many in our student group, yet she chose me. It is a nice story, simple and sweet, but it is just that. A story.

Tobias watched with his small yellow eyes. His feathers stood on end.

I do not doubt that you are the progeny of my late son, said my father. And if you are born of my son, then that must mean you are strong, and brave, and kind. He sent a wave of bitter regret and sweet love to us. Tobias jerked back from the wave of emotion, emitting a small noise. I had done this with Tobias before, but I do not think he expected openness from my father. I sent him a reassuring wave of my own.

Then, my father closed himself completely. I no longer had a sense of his emotions. I could only hear his tone, which my people typically kept even and calm. It was impossible to know what he was feeling. I will tell you the real story. I have always thought it was more Forlay's to tell, but I do not believe she will mind. The telling it is harder on her.

Even though I was softened by the _eilashan_ , I still managed to tense my muscles. Feeling my father close himself off so harshly was disturbing.

Your mother did not begin her education with us, said my father. She joined our school group in the third season of our second year.

I knew Tobias would need context. The human equivalent of eleven years old. It is very, very rare for a child to join a new school group at that age, I said to him. Andalites not only tend to hold the same scoop for generations, we also consider it highly inappropriate to disrupt a child's stability by relocating while they are young. If it is done, it is done only because it is absolutely necessary.

Sounds nice, said Tobias dryly.

My father continued to make long, soothing strokes against my fur. With his emotions completely closed, it felt odd, like a machine was brushing me. I said nothing. At this point, I think the brushing was more soothing to him. We accepted her easily. She was both intelligent and clever, two things that do not always coincide. As soon as she joined our class, she was at the top of it, yet she wasn't as aloof as other folk with her genius. She was warm and kind. As we grew older, we fought for her attention, but she only extended any of us academic aid and pleasantries. She seemed to prefer isolation to companionship. An odd thing for an Andalite, but not unheard of.

While she had been with us for quite some time, no one knew where she had come from. She had parents, of course, but they were assigned to her, and not biological. No one could find a single piece of information about her birth parents. Even children whose are taken from their parents in shame have records. With Forlay, there was nothing. We assumed she had, somehow, been born of two _vecols_ , discovered, and brought into society. It was the closest fit, though normally children in that situation are found when they are much younger.

I was, perhaps, the most enamored with Forlay out of anyone I knew, yet I was the least aggressive of her suitors. I knew I had no chance to win her affections. My features are plain, my mind is slow, and my bravery wavers. I was accepted into the military all the same. A four day before I was to leave for the Academy, I was woken up in the middle of the night by Forlay. It was entirely unexpected. I did not know she knew where I lived.

My father's hands began to slow, brushing my fur in long, contemplative strokes.

She was very anxious. She begged me for my help. You see, our family has always made air ducts and waterways, and we have access to many building blueprints as a result. Forlay wanted the blueprints to the nearest hanger that housed small fighters. By chance, my family had them. I was young, and she was beautiful. While I knew she was not making sound decisions, I helped her all the same. I insisted on staying by her side.

We arrived at the hanger. She morphed. I asked where she got access to an Escafil device. She mentioned something about the Mak planet, and I began to piece things together. You see, the military had retreated from the Yeerk invasion of the Mak planet, suddenly and rapidly, with little explanation. That had been around the time Forlay had joined our school group. The two events had seemed very unrelated. Back in the hanger, I started to understand.

My father's brushed against me with pressure now, roughly rubbing against the skin underneath my fur like he was scrubbing me. I tensed.

She used a _garian_ morph to climb through the ducts. Once inside, she opened the doors for me, to allow me to follow her, and I did. She was scared, she wanted company, and again, she was beautiful. I was happy to lend her my presence. In time, we were in a fighter, which Forlay could pilot with surprising ease. She began flying toward somewhere with a sureness. It was clear she knew where she was going, though I did not. I asked where she was taking me. She began to explain, and then I understood in terrible fullness why the military had retreated from Mak.

I sent my father a wave of reassurance. It seemed like the thing to do. I received nothing in return.

Forlay had intimate knowledge of the Mak. She had been brought to the planet as a child, the daughter of three biologists who were sent to Mak to study the species and their planet. These biologists grew to love and respect the aliens. One of Forlay's parents, Shoramith-Maedrid-Castill, realized that the Mak would be perfectly suited to the Aetalen continent.

Which is otherwise not habitable by Andalites. We have little use for it, I said to Tobias.

Like Antartica, kind of, said Tobias.

My father blinked, then said, I shall take your word on it. His brushing grew more gentle and steady, as if Tobias had interrupted his dark thoughts and brought him back to the reality of his hands. Needless to say, the harsh Mak climate was hard for Andalites, and we had much difficulty fighting on the ground. The Yeerks used this to their advantage, and we were losing. As the Mak were small in number and not nearly as useful a host as a Hork-Bajir, the military was considering giving up on the planet entirely and diverting resources elsewhere. It was a small loss to Andalites, but a large loss to Forlay's mothers. They developed a way to smuggle the Mak to Aetalen.

I took a breath that was sharp and sudden. That is—that is _foolish!_ I said. My anger was seeping from me, and I did not care. I may be a _nothisshorm,_ but I was not naive. To bring a sentient species on to _our_ homeworld, no matter how powerless—the ecological implications alone—

I know, said my father softly. They are no longer there.

I felt myself relax. Good, I said. In that case, I am glad Aetalen could serve as a temporary home.

I noticed Tobias had stopped preening his feathers.

No, Ax, Tobias said quietly, his voice full of something distant and sad.

It sounded not unlike mourning.

That is when I understood.

When it was found out what Forlay's mothers had done, they were offered isolation in return for the Mak's specific location, said my father. Forlay's mothers did not give it to them. They were executed, and Forlay was brought back into society, as she was an innocent child who had played no part in her mothers' treason. But of course, Forlay was not all that docile. She was clever, and she was passionate. She had grown up with the Mak, and thought of them as equals and friends. Even as young as she was, she had aided her mothers in their smuggling, and she knew everything. She acted ignorant, because she knew if she did not, and if she stood with her mothers, the Mak would be unprotected. She watched her mothers die for an alien race, and she chose to live because of that same love. She had somehow hacked the military's most secret channels, and spent her isolated days monitoring all information about the Mak. When the military finally found their location, they moved quickly, and Forlay knew she had to move quicker to warn the aliens. In the end, she could not. By the time we arrived, the Aetalen forests were already burning.

I felt a surge of anger toward my people, an emotion that was so disappointedly common these days that I had far too much practice in processing it. That was unnecessary, I said. It would have been easy to aid them.

I agree, said my father. We landed our stolen ship before anyone could see us. As soon as we were on the ground, Forlay marched outside, and she began screaming at the air. At first, I thought she had gone insane with grief. Then, I saw them too. A family of four, beautiful and strong, marked with ancient runes burned into their skin. The Ellimists.

Of course, I said quietly.

Forlay accused them of lying. She claimed the Ellimists had promised Forlay they would protect the Mak. They said the rules had changed. They called her daughter. I knew then, in some distant way that may have been planted by the Ellimists themselves, that Forlay was Their descendant, and that that was a terrible curse.

Both of my hearts began to beat rapidly in time with each other. They were no longer one Andalite and one human. They were united, both furious and scared. Oh, I said. It was all I could say. To learn that one's bloodline is a thing of gods is not a positive feeling. It is mostly a cold one, and a fearful one. In some ways, it was not a surprise. It had not gone beyond my notice that my life was fantastical and far, far too exciting.

I thought of the smell of rotted fruit, and of a ringing in my ears, and of a harsh black loss of time and memory within me.

My father continued, his emotions still tightly closed. After that, Forlay was a fraction of herself. I felt protective of her, and she felt attached to me. When I returned from my military service, we married, and we petitioned for a child. Forlay gave birth to Elfangor. We loved him, as we love you, Aximili, with the blind and wild passion of a parent. Then, something happened to Elfangor, and he, too, became a fraction of himself. Forlay asked him what had happened, and asked him about the Ellimists. That was the second time I heard her speak of Them. We only knew this less-than Elfangor for a handful of seasons, and then he was gone, and so was our other son. That was the third time Forlay spoke of the Ellimists.

My father held out an arm toward Tobias. Tobias fluttered toward him and landed, very carefully, on his wrist. My father brought Tobias up to his main eyes. You are a strange and foreign little creature, yet I sense pain from you.

Tobias hesitated, and then said, Yes.

And then my father opened up to us with a sudden, rolling flood. We drowned in his feelings, his loss and his sadness, his hesitance and his quiet. He had been emptied from the inside out with rough hands and artless carving. He was a thing of canyons and cliffs and caves, meant for waterfalls and rivers, but they had been stolen from him. He was container for nothing, a cauldron of loss. He lived, but he didn't. He was here, but he was not.

Forlay and I cannot allow you into our hearts, Tobias Henry Fangor, he said. I cannot hear her speak of the Ellimists a fourth time.

I understand, said Tobias. My father reached up with his other hand, and lightly touched the place under Tobias's eye, where an Andalite cheekbone would be. I did not need to explain the intimacy of the gesture to him. He turned, and nipped gently at the fur on my father's fingers, something he used to do to Rachel from time to time. He flew away, and landed back on my shoulder.

My father set down his brush. My fur was soft and tame. I looked at him. Much happened to me when I was lost, I said. And I am not finished with that.

Then please go, he said. Leave before your mother comes home from work. Do not return to her until you are ready to stay.

Of course, I said, and I left my childhood scoop with my father's _eiliashan_ in my fur, feeling as empty as him.

Tobias and I began to head back toward the spaceport. He flew and I ran. It was an odd thing we did, but it was calming.

After a time, we both had to take a break. I leaned against a _somelshi_ tree. Running has been therapeutic, I said, But it will take far too long to get back to the spaceport on foot. I will morph soon.

Okay, said Tobias. He landed on the _somelshi_ tree. Branches on _somelshi_ trees are very high up and I could not see Tobias, but I felt his presence all the same. We sat in silence for a moment, and then Tobias said, You know, I mean, that was pretty rough. But it was good. Family is kind of weird to me anyway, and I'd rather stay away and let them be happy than stick around and make them miserable. It's better to be honest about it right away.

Perhaps, I said. I did not have much else to say about the subject.

Tobias laughed a little, a sound that was somewhat forced. You know, when I was a kid, if you told me I was the son of a cool alien who was also the descendant of a legend I would have been _thrilled._ It's exactly the sort of thing I used to dream about, except, you know. My dad would have been alive and would have taken me off Earth. Be careful what you wish for, I guess. Now I wish I really was the kid of that fake Alan Fangor.

He was trying to take my mind off of things and cheer me up. I was not in the mood.

Maybe, I said, hoping Tobias would understand that I did not want to talk from my one word replies. Then, I noticed a group of Andalites coming toward us. I straightened up, assuming it was a grazing family from this area. They would recognize Prince Aximili of Earth, and would be excited to speak to me. I had to act as if I had not watched my father reject my _shorm_ , who was his grandson, because my family was an obsession of the Ellimists.

Whoa. Why are there military men all the way out here?

They are military? I asked, focusing my main eyes on the Andalites in the distance.

I mean, I assume. They have that whole stiff military walk going on.

Ah, I said. Of course, you have the advantage of your height. I would have noticed first if I were not so far below you.

You wish, said Tobias.

I held my tail in the position of a Prince. I was still visibly stressed, but I was somewhat presentable because of my father, which was a small mercy.

There were four Andalites altogether. One of them stepped forward. Aximili, he said. You are needed at the spaceport.

I sighed internally. These Andalites were the muscular fighter pilot types that I very much disliked. They always spoke to me in a manner that nearly disregarded my rank because I am physically small. I have received no official summons, I said patiently. I did a proper debriefing back on the _Blossom._ No one has communicated immediate need to me, and I more than deserve time to see my family. If a bored Prince sent you on a mission to fetch me in person for dramatics, please let him know that official channels are far more effective, and I will return as soon as I can.

An Andalite stepped forward and displayed his tailblade in a threatening position. Please come with us, Prince Aximili.

Ax? said Tobias.

I did not wonder at who these people were, or what they wanted. Thinking was not helpful in times like these. I whipped my tail, and laid a harsh blow against the Andalite's head before he could use his blade against me. I felt another Andalite's tail immobilize mine.

Do not fight me, I said darkly. I am exhausted and out of practice.

We will extend pity if you cooperate, said the Andalite with his tail locked in mine.

You misunderstand, I said. I am not worried for myself. I am worried I may loose my concentration, and hurt one of you more than I should.

Of course, the Andalite said. I have seen the Yeerk footage of your battles. When I speak of pity, I am speaking of not doing this.

He lurched forward, and hit me with a sharp and cold metal device. The world started to fade around me. I had been drugged. I lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5 - Marco

The Andalites dropped us humans off at this crazy building that looked like a toddler laid the Eiffel Tower down horizontally and then cut out all their favorite shapes. They actually called it a hotel, which inspired Dean to rap "Hotel, motel, UFO inn" and I laughed. You may think I'd be jealous that he thought of it first, but you'd be wrong. I was more than happy to have another comedian on the team. Do you think it's easy coming up with all these legendary bits rapid fire and under pressure? No! Even Johnny Carson had Ed McMahon.

They ushered us into what they called the "Human Wing." I guess this place was designed to host all manner of alien delegates, which explained the lack of uniformity in design. There were only four human-accessible rooms that were not currently used by the Earth embassy. It worked out great, seeing how Tobias had fucked off into the wild red yonder. Ax had broken away to go after him, which I thought was a mistake. Nothing would make Tobias happier than finding a new forest to isolate himself. Purple trees, longer days, and brand new critters to murder! It'd be his version of redecorating.

The Andalites gave us some basic explanations of how things worked, then left to do god-knows-what. I had reached that very specific stage of drinking too much too fast, where I was sober but exhausted, and also mildly nauseous. I wanted to sleep. I _very_ desperately wanted to sleep. But as soon as I was alone in my Andalite hotel room, I knew sleep was not an option.

The debriefing had been too quick. They'd had left us alone too fast. Something was up. Something was wrong.

I splashed some water on my face and wondered if the Andalites had some sort of grass equivalent of a tall glass of Monster that I could chew on. Then I thought about how that would actually taste, and decided not to ever ask. I left my room, and I went to Jake's room.

I knocked on his door. I immediately knocked again, not giving him a chance to not-answer. I knocked the classic shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits, and then I started knocking out the Batman theme. He appeared right while I was mid knock, my fist up in the air. He gave me a very particular disappointed look only Jake and school teachers are capable of giving.

"Great," I said, pushing past him and entering his room. "I was just about to switch to Jingle Bells, and that's really not seasonally appropriate. It's, like, June on Earth, isn't it?"

"I don't know," said Jake, closing the door and sitting on the bed. "I lost track."

I paced the perimeter of the room, running my hand along the walls. "So what do you think of these sweet digs?" I said. I stopped in front a painting of flowers.

"I didn't get much of a look," said Jake dryly. "I was pretty much planning on sleeping before seeing the sights. You know. Sleep?"

I stifled a bitter laugh. Seeing the sights my ass. We both knew Jake was going to stay in his hotel room until a ship arrived at his very window and told him to get in and get back to Earth. I tapped my finger against the painting, as if I were making a point. "Honestly, it's a little disappointing. I'm over here thinking, hey, alien hotel, that's about to be full of hilarious misunderstandings. Shoes for lampshades, plastic fruit instead of real food, you know, the classics." I picked up a decorative vase on Jake's bedside table and turned it around in my hands. "Instead, it looks like they got Crate and Barrel itself to come over and spruce up the place."

"What's Crate and Barrel?" asked Jake.

"What? There's no way. No way you don't know Crate and Barrel," I said, setting the vase down and picking up the alarm clock. "It's a store. Come on, man. There was one at the mall. I know the only pop of color in your house was an occasional dark navy against a sea of beige, but you should at _least_ know Crate and Barrel." I eyed a clock on the wall. It was pretty ornate. Definitely not from Crate and Barrel. The center of it was a little too shiny. It didn't quite match the rest of the clock, like the clock makers had to use a piece from a different model and hoped noone would notice.

Jake sighed, then stood up. "Hey, man, let's get out of here. Let's go see if the Andalites have coffee anywhere, okay? Or at least get you some water."

"Coffee schmoffee," I said, walking up to the clock. "Water schmater. Does this look expensive to you?" I pulled it off the wall.

Jake lunged toward me. "Don't mess with this stuff, we don't want to piss off the Anda—"

"Oops!" I said, letting the clock slip from my hand. Before Jake could react, I stomped on it with all the might my well toned but thin little body had.

"What the hell are you _doing!_ " said Jake as I leaned down, fishing through the shards to find what I needed. Once I had it, I came back up, and showed it to Jake.

"Camera hidden in the clock," I said, lowering my voice to nearly a whisper. "Clever, but amateur. Everything else in this room was _clearly_ mass produced, but the clock looked hand crafted. You can always depend on the Andalites to be the exact right amount of suspicious and paranoid while maintaining a helpful assumption that every non-Andalite species is stupid. We probably have about ten minutes before some random guy shows up, effusing about your great leadership and giving you some gift basket full of grass and arrogance that just happens to have another camera in it."

Jake sat back down on his bed, running his hands down his face. He looked back up at me. "It's shitty, but it's probably just general security. They have no reason to spy on us, and even if they think they do, I personally had no plans to act suspiciously. I'm telling you, you should get some sleep."

"We can sleep when we're back on the _Rachel_ ," I said. "They took our ship somewhere weird. I want to know why."

Jake hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he should say something, and then he sighed. "You can talk slower and lower your voice if you want, Marco, but you're still drunk," he said flatly.

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't drink that much. I'm fine now."

Jake looked at me incredulously. "You know, we could have used you back there. You—"

I leaned against the desk in Jake's room and looked down. When I looked back up, I was wearing a new face. Jake jumped when he saw, then frowned.

"Who is that?" he said, his tone way more accusing than it needed to be. I sighed.

"Bits and pieces of various people, all who I acquired with permission, alright? People love it when you turn into them, it's a fun party trick. I call this guy Marcel," I said, keeping my voice light. I've been acquired without consent, and it's not a great feeling. I did it a few times during the war, but even I knew war time morality wasn't the same as peace time. The fact that Jake looked at me with such suspicion was more than a little hurtful, like he thought I was some morally bankrupt pretty boy running through Hollywood and doing whatever I wanted without thought for consequence. I mean, I was, but I had _limits._

I pushed myself off of the desk. "Look, it doesn't matter where I got this body, all that matters is that this body is fresh and sober." I put a finger on my nose and carefully walked forward, placing one foot in front of the other. When I got to the end of the room, I spun around and threw my arms out. "Ta-dah!" I said.

Quickly, I forced myself to sort through the events of the last few hours. I'm not above admitting one of my suspicions was wrong, providing I could do so very quickly and then leave immediately. Okay, maybe I felt significantly clearer after morphing, and maybe I felt like shit for not spinning a better lie about Menderash's human form, and maybe I didn't need to sing _My Heart Will Go On_ to Dean while we travelled in the Andalite taxi, but I _definitely_ still felt there was something very suspicious about the Andalites taking the _Rachel_ and very specifically _only_ the _Rachel_ to some unknown area.

"I still think things are fucked," I said, staring directly at Jake, and using my most serious of voices.

Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Morph back, please. It's creepy watching all your mannerisms in a stranger."

"You can just admit you miss my charming and beautiful face," I said, shrinking down into my real self. I leaned against the wall, mostly to keep my ears open to the clip-clopping of Andalite hooves cheerfully running to Jake's room with a fresh bouquet of electronic bugs. "Let's get out of here. Go see a new planet, go find our ship, and figure out why the damn aliens took it in the first place."

Jake dropped his hand. He looked down at the floor, clearly thinking deeply about something. Then, he looked back up at me, and spoke very slowly and gently, like I was some kind of rebellious child who wouldn't eat his vegetables. "I really don't think this means what you think it means. The ship is incredibly damaged, and not up to fleet standards. They're probably just taking it to a junkyard. If you're concerned about them not knowing our belongings from leftover Yeerk stuff, then I can talk to someone about it, okay? I know a couple of the Andalite higher-ups, and—"

"I know more Andalites than you, because I leave my fucking house," I said. I immediately regretted saying it, but it was too late. Jake's expression barely changed, anyway. "If they were taking it to a junkyard, they would have just said that. Plainly. They didn't. They said 'It's of no concern to you what we do with our ships.' They're hiding something."

"Andalites are like that, though. They make everything sound more complex and shady than it is. Hey, whenever you do an impression of an Andalite, you use a British accent. It makes no sense. None of them have British accents," said Jake. "Why do you do that?"

I blinked at Jake. "Are you really trying to distract me?" I said. "With _that?_ This is important."

Jake looked at me and sighed again. I was getting dangerously near nuclear level of pissed-right-the-fuck-off, touching the place where even on a set I couldn't swallow my anger. He pushed some hair out of his eyes. It'd gotten shaggy on the _Rachel,_ like all our hair had, and it was starting to get too curly and unruly. He would have looked cute if he wasn't looking at me like I was his idiot teenaged son. He pressed his lips together, considering something, and then he looked back up at me. "Come on, man. You know you have a history of crying wolf."

I went cold.

"This isn't like that," I said, my expression hard and flat.

Jake held his hands out, preemptively trying to soothe me. "Just sleep on it, okay? Go to sleep and then we'll talk about in the—" Jake paused and looked out of the giant Andalite window. "Whatever time it might be outside when we wake up."

I almost laughed. " _You_ can sleep," I hissed. "You're so good at it. It's all you ever do these days."

"I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry about that."

I balled up my fists. "There you go again, rolling over and exposing your belly. Fuck you, Jake. You do that to get me off your back, not because you give a flying fuck about how your bullshit effects the rest of us."

Jake took a slow, deep breath, which I knew meant he was going to say something. I stepped forward, getting into his face.

"This? This mission? This was your chance to wake up," I said, my voice coming out low and dangerous. "And you did. You were fucking _brilliant_ , making the call to ram the Blade Ship, dictating our positions, calling Tobias and me out for being lazy morphers. For about ten minutes there, you were back, and then it got a _little_ bit hard and you're right back to sleeping again."

Jake looked up at me, his eyes going hazy and mournful like they always were when he was at Rachel's grave. "Menderash—"

"Is fucking alive!" I shouted. "We're all alive! We have Ax!"

"Not because of anything we did," said Jake, distant and dead. "But because The One let us."

"And you immediately became his little lap dog," I hissed. "Are you really going to chase after him? Just you, alone, in some shitty borrowed shuttle from the Andalites, against a fucking _God_?"

"Yes," said Jake, looking both at me and past me.

"You know that's suicide," I said darkly.

Jake said nothing. He just sat there, staring off into the distance, expressionless and unmoving. I could still smell the stale nicotine on his clothes.

We sat in stalled silence; me charged with purpose, him stalled with emptiness. Suddenly, at once, we both looked at the door, which had started gently projecting colors.

"That's probably some kind of Andalite knock," I muttered. Jake got up and opened the door.

Sure enough, there was an Andalite, holding some kind of art piece I didn't care enough about to study. I stormed past the gift-giver, forcing Jake to deal with them on his own.

So Bird-Boy had fucked off into the poetic maroon sky, Ax had gone chasing after him like Julia Roberts in any movie, and Jake wanted to sit in his own room and sulk. I knew something was suspicious, and if no one else was going to care enough to figure it out, then I'd do it on my own. It was appropriate, after all. Here I was, mistakenly thinking some time together on a ship was going to bring the band back together. I guess you gotta let some things just be of their time, you know? Cadbury Eggs, candy canes, strong emotional bonds forged during war; apparently, it's all the same concept. It's no fun if you do it out of season!

I went back to my room. Jake was maybe onto something with all his sleep talk, but I knew it'd be completely useless. The next best thing was always a shower. Go stand under some water, pour a bunch of lavender-scented goop over your body, walk out, and it's almost like a full night's sleep, if a full night's sleep left you feeling exactly as exhausted, but wet.

Still, it was a change of pace. Stepping underneath a stream of hot water always reset my brain. Feeling a mix of terror, sadness, and rage at your former brilliant general and even more former best friend? Get the water as hot as you can stand it, burn off those feelings, and step out with a brand new set of emotions.

It worked. I was pumped. I was ready. I was on to something, and I was going to figure it out, with or without my "friends."

I knew what I had to do first. I had to get information. How was I going to get information? Back in the day, I'd morph a fly and wait. That wasn't going to work. Flies are considerably less subtle on an alien planet. Less "on the wall" and more "oh god, it's a tiny but terrifying mystery monster, let's destroy it immediately." Fortunately, I had another trick up my sleeve. Something with far more stealth and finesse than mere morphing.

I could flirt.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. But Marco, these are Andalites! You can't flirt with an Andalite! They can't appreciate your angelic hair, perfectly sculpted facial features, or your soulful but sensitive eyes! What shall you do? Cover yourself in some blue feather boas and hope for the best? To which I say: watch a master at work, ye of little faith.

I went over to the front desk button and pushed it with a flourish. Then, I sat on my bed and waited.

The lights on the door started to go off. A few seconds later, the same Andalite that had given Jake the replacement camera waltzed into my room. This time, I paid a lot more attention to them.

I knew a thing or two about Andalites. When it's 3 AM, you're avoiding nightmares, and the only other intelligent life form to communicate with is an alien creature who didn't need to sleep much anyway, you start having some interesting conversations. I asked him, once, if chick Andalites had tits. This lead to a ton of details about lady Andalites, all of which were actually pretty interesting, but do _not_ tell Ax I said that. I found out that the Andalite equivalent to a giant pair of knockers is a tiny, delicate tail blade. This chick's blade was so small, her tail almost looked like it ended in pure fur. Most Andalites are blue, but somewhere around 90% of the ladies were various shades of purple, and the ones that were blue were all insecure about it. This Andalite was definitely purple, and, like, a _good_ purple. There wasn't a drop of blue about her. She was Prince in the _When Doves Cry_ music video purple. That had to make her pretty hot. Plus, her hooves were so shiny I could see the room's colors reflected in blurry splotches. For all I knew, that was some kind of Andalite acne, but I'd put down good money on it being a fashion statement. I was clearly talking to the Andalite equivalent of a girl named Samantha who works the front desk at a DoubleTree and spends all her extra money at MAC. I could work with that.

I flashed her a grin. "Okay, I have a couple of questions, but first off? I really want to let you know, you are the prettiest damn Andalite I have ever seen. I mean, _wow._ "

She blinked a few times, which I knew was an Andalite sign of embarrassment. A blush, basically. The second I figured that out, I made it a point to make Ax blink as much as possible, seeing how he actively wrecked what little social life I had whenever we walked next to some fries. It is rare to find a human who can appreciate Andalite beauty, she said.

Ah. So she was as full of herself as she was gorgeous, a combo with which I, stunning but humble, am entirely unfamiliar.

"That's just because we only ever see the big military guys," I said. "They're stuffy and all have patchy fur. You? You're all put together. Sleek. Small," I said, taking a small risk. I wasn't sure if Andalite beauty standards ran the way of delicate and dainty, but if the tail blade thing was any indication, then I was on the right path. She blinked but her body language remained the same, which I took to be a good sign. I pushed it even further. "I've never seen hooves so beautifully polished before." Really, really hoping mirror-hooves were a beauty thing and not a sign of an ugly and deathly disease.

Thank you, she said. I was on a roll. Perhaps the Animorphs are as extraordinary as Prince Aximili says.

"Extraordinary?" I said. "He says that about us?"

Yes, said the Andalite. Extraordinary by human standards.

"So kind," I said, muttering under my breath. The Andalite twitched her tail.

Could you repeat that? I sometimes have difficulty hearing humans, she said.

"I said what's your name," I said, louder this time.

Ah, she said. I am Longrial-Banatul-Fameen.

"So what does a bored tourist do on this planet, Longrial?" I said, flashing her another one of my trademark smiles. "What do you got, a pool? Hot air balloon rides? Group outings where you just quietly contemplate the beauty of grass?"

Ah, she said. You wish to experience the awe of _havayshord_?

"Wait, is that the grass thing?"

Yes.

"Oh god. No, not at all. I was kind of thinking something more—social. Talky-talky. Back and forth." Somewhere where I could listen in on conversations, maybe pick up something about the old Yeerk ship the Animorphs brought in and what the plans for it were. Somewhere where I could eavesdrop. Somewhere with human morphs. "You guys have a Cinnabon here, right? Is it anywhere nearby, or is it how my dad's family all seem to think we go on day trips to the Golden Gate Bridge just because we live in California?"

What?

"Where's the Cinnabon? I'd like to dine at this fine, upscale establishment."

She looked at me with her giant yet vapid and expressionless eyes. But you are human. You have enjoyed cinnamon buns many times.

"Oh, sure," I said, though in all honesty I hadn't touched the damn things in years. I liked them way back when, but there's only so many times you can watch a beautiful young man shove glaze and dough down his throat before you're permanently turned off. So let it be a testament to my award-winning acting skills that my face showed zero disgust when I said, "But I haven't had an _alien_ cinnamon bun, now, have I?"

She shifted her weight. There are waiting lists. One does not get to experience a cinnamon bun on a whim.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you jealous? Why? It's not like you can try them. Do the give morphing tech to concierges now?"

Of course not, she said. Her tail blade suddenly went taut. I suppressed a grin.

Bingo.

Being on Andalite is kind of a surreal experience, and not because it was an alien planet. That part was old news. Between glitching through Z-space to the water dungeon on Leera, teleporting to Iskoort LegoLand, and the _Magic School Bus_ ride to the Hork Bajir planet, I'd been galaxy-hopping even _before_ we got on the _Rachel._ Yawn. You got on the planet, you walked around for a while, you went "Wow, the trees are different colors!", and then you got over it and went home.

What was _actually_ crazy was watching the other Andalites. It reminded me of the one time mom, dad, and I managed to go to Puerto Rico. I remember being really shocked by the people. Not because they were different or anything, but because they were really, really familiar. A lot of what I thought of as my mom's own habits and mannerisms were actually part of a bigger culture. I was getting that sense, only this time I was seeing a lot of Ax things getting reflected in total Andalite strangers.

If this were Ax, that tense tail would be a sure sign he was hiding something. He always did that when I caught him in a lie. In Ax's case, it was normally something like he _totally_ understood what he was reading when he was knee-deep in FBI emails, or that he and Tobias definitely _weren't_ working together to cheat at Monopoly with thought-speak. With my girl here, it meant she definitely, absolutely, undeniably could morph, and that she really wanted a damn Cinnabon.

I leaned against the wall. "Look, Longrial— can I call you Longrial?"

I have no idea what else you would call me.

"Ally, probably."

What?

"Ally," I said, "I know a thing or two about waitlists. The first thing I know is that they don't apply to me. The second thing I know is that, to most events, there is typically a plus one."

She turned away from me, and pulled up some kind of holographic computer. I raised an eyebrow. Menderash had a laptop implanted in his head, too, but he had never made it visible and holographic before. He preferred to just suddenly glaze over like he had exited his own brain, like ex-hosts did when they forgot they could move their own body around. Either Longrial had some sort of bonus feature that made her brain-laptop visible to comfort humans, or Menderash just did _not_ care how much he disturbed us. I will send word to Cinnabon of your interest. Beyond that, I am not concerned with whom you attend.

I pushed myself off the wall. "But what if it was you?" I said.

I do not have the ability to morph human, she said patiently. That would be very illegal, nearly treason.

"Sure," I said. I waited a moment.

"Nice clock," I said.

She turned a stalk eye toward me, very slowly, very deliberately.

Of course, she said slowly. I think so, too.

Her holographic computer disappeared in a blink. She turned her whole body, allowing her to look at me with her main eyes. I have sent word to the Cinnabon of your interest. In the meantime, we can provide meals to sate human needs. We have bars that provide the necessary human nutrition, and a few 'snacks', as it were, of both sweet and savory nature. Would you like to peruse the wares?

"I honestly would," I said. We'd just done a whole wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing, but a part of me was hoping she really _was_ going to take me to some sort of alien grocery store. After six months of nutritional bars, I could really go to town on some stale Ritz crackers.

She led me down the hallway. We walked past Jake's room and, for a minute, I thought about knocking on his door and trying to drag him out again. The moment passed. Let him sulk.

A wall sort of rippled in front of us. I'm pretty used to weird shit happening, so it's not like I stopped in my tracks in wonder and awe, but I did raise my eyebrows. "What's that about?" I asked.

Well, she said, in a tone of voice that I knew from Ax meant a whole waterfall of condescending bullshit was about to come my way, You cannot possibly expect us to meticulously build various wings of our alien embassy with tangible material. We need to quickly expand or condense wings, depending on the arrivals of alien guests. Much of this building is made up of—well, we'll call it holographic material, as your primitive human ways can no—

"Yep, holograms can act like dense physical material, I get it," I said. "Animorph, remember? I'm not Joseph F. Politician, here to take in the glory of alien tech. I also know that even the most powerful holographic tech can glitch. Are you trying to tell me you shove your important visitors into a building made out of bleeps and bloops?"

It is perfectly safe, said Ally, as haughtily as possible.

"Do buildings that house real Andalites and not aliens use actual walls?" I asked.

She hesitated. There are often holographic illusions projected onto our structures, she said, as if that made anything better.

"Yeah, that doesn't really ease my concern," I said. "So the Earth embassy guys are just hanging out in what amounts to _Tron_ world?"

Come, she said quickly, and she walked through the rippling wall, which is definitely _not_ the way to warm Sprite and Little Debbie snacks. I was a little sad, but I followed her all the same.

This hotel was a no expenses spared, pan-alien _experience_ and when you walked beyond the holograms and paid attention to the man behind the curtain, things got _weird_.

It was sort of like walking through those underground aquariums, where some rooms are dedicated to fresh water, some salt water, some ponds or whatever. Each room has slightly different fish in them, and they're always lit and decorated with different colors and plants. It's meant to make you feel like you're walking into completely different waterscapes, but you're not, you're just walking underneath a giant mall the midwest built in a desperate plea for tourism and you have to pee. This was kind of like that, in that it was a long hallway with windows that looked into each alien wing. But instead of slightly different lighting, you were getting entirely different atmospheres. I assumed it was a two way mirror situation. I could see into all the other alien worlds, but they couldn't see me.

One long stretch of rooms was so dark it hurt my eye to look at it. Another wing somehow looked like a snowscape, only I could feel heat coming off of the wall. One wing was full of things I could only assume were furniture and appliances, but they were _huge._ It was wild and cool and deeply unsettling.

I followed Ally in silence, too busy taking in all the weird shit around me to be my regular, hilarious self. Eventually, she walked through a wall into some sort of Alice In Wonderland meets Wizard of Oz meets Heavy Metal drug trip planet. I hesitated, then followed. I was already in pretty deep. Might as well wander straight down the actual rabbit hole.

The air inside was warm and dry and _thin._ Way thinner than the Andalite atmosphere, which was already pretty rough. I sat down, involuntarily bringing a hand to my chest like a southern lady with the vapors. "Is this going to take long?" I asked, trying hard not to freak out. I didn't have a lot of experience with my lungs refusing to fill up all the way outside of a panic attack, which at _least_ provided context, but I was very quickly finding that I hated it _a lot_. When I was back on Earth, I was going to thank my mom for saving me from dad's asthma gene, and also send ol' Peter a care package of chocolate and inhalers.

Ally said nothing. As I desperately tried to keep myself from running out of the atmosphere and screaming, she started morphing. I may have _seem_ surprised, seeing how I was gasping for air, but I assure you that I was not.

Her human morph was as breathtakingly gorgeous as every other Andalite's human morph. She was full Angelina Jolie lips, smooth Beyonce skin, and round Claire Dane eyes. She was also naked as the day she was born—well, acquired—and she had _great_ tits. I mean, really top tier. Not too big, not too small, and perfectly perky. If I die of asphyxiation, as least these tits will have been the last tits I saw. A fitting end.

She tossed back her gorgeous curly chestnut hair and looked at me. "You will be fine for at least ten more minutes. This atmosphere is uncomfortable, even for Andalites, and it is rarely used. We only have a passing relationship with the _Ssstram_ , which is why, in order to save energy, the Hospitality Guild has put surveillance of this wing at a minimum."

"What is _minimum_ surveillance?" I asked.

"Surveillance designed to pick up thought-speak, both public and private," said Ally. "It is more expensive to record audible noise, and thus, this wing will only ever pick up thought-speak. We are safe here as long as we speak audibly."

"Great! We can plot all the evil deeds we want, and then our lungs will collapse!" I said.

"I plot no evil," said Ally. "I simply support a world where all tech is available to all the People, and not just who the Electorate deems worthy."

I coughed, the dryness of this atmosphere really getting to me. This place was such a luxury. "Great," I squeaked out. "So you're a part of some kind of Andalite revolutionary group."

"Not quite," she said. "Do you not know the details of our movement?"

"What movement?" I asked.

"I assumed from your inquiries that you knew of my ability to morph, and how I received this gift. It is my understanding that visiting humans whisper of our movement among each other, with intent to visit one of our festivals. Do you not seek _Voktra_?"

I coughed again. " _Vok-_ what? Fuck Ta? Did you just say Fuck Town?"

"No," she said patiently. "I said _Voktra_. Would you like to know more?"

"I literally want to know _everything_ about Fuck Town," I said.

So she explained and then my time on Andalite got a _hell_ of a lot more exciting.


	6. Chapter 6 - Jake

After Marco left, I laid down on my bed. I didn't close my eyes. I couldn't. His voice fell dead on my ears, the memory of them flat and pressing. I felt his words tease my lips, wanting to be mouthed, wanting to have shape.

 _For about ten minutes there, you were back._

 _You can sleep. It's all you ever do these days._

 _You know that's suicide._

The hotel room whirled with electronic hums. It was a thin sound, like breath frosting a cold mirror. It was a sort of music. It gave me some context, some small sense of place.

I closed my eyes. I slept.

I woke up slowly, deliberate and measured, like brushing wet dirt off a buried thing. The light outside was different. It was a blood red, a meat red, a gut red. I fell back into the electronic-noise of the room, letting it lay heavy on me, soothing my brain to a place between sleep and awake.

 _You know that's suicide._

I closed my eyes. I did not sleep.

In time, I stirred, because my body was aching and stiff. I twisted myself into sitting, and sitting made me feel disconnected and strange. I was not a creature that sat. I was a collection of household objects playacting at a human body. I was paper towel legs and dryer sheet hair. I was created, a copy and a symbol, molded and sculpted by hands that weren't my own. I could not sit, because strung together objects were not capable of shape.

I laid back down.

 _You know that's suicide._

I closed my eyes.

I woke up, I washed my face, and I acted like a person. It's slow work, pretending at a soul, but it can be done with practice and time.

Eventually, I was called to debrief with the Andalite military. An Andalite name Eroselfus took me to a giant domed building that looked like all the other giant domed buildings on this planet. I don't remember much about what they asked or what I said. None of it seemed important. I had set out to save Ax, and I had done it, all at the mercy of a being too powerful for words. I told them about my plan to chase The One, and asked for a small but powerful ship. They seemed willing to work with me, though they were concerned. That was fine. Let them worry. I didn't care about their concern. I knew what was right. My last ditch attempt at _doing_ hadn't worked, and I was tired. I wanted to do one good thing. I could trap The One. I could let him chase me, then lead him somewhere he couldn't get out. I didn't know how or why or where, but an idea would have to come. I wanted to do one more big, useful, life saving thing—but this time, only I would carry the risk, and only I would suffer the mistakes.

An Andalite said something to me about understanding honor, but imploring me to reconsider. I don't think they really cared. It was all bureaucracy. They were a practical people, and if I could handle The One with a sacrifice, well, what was one small human? It only made sense to let me try it on my own, then go from there.

When would you like to leave? an Andalite said.

"As soon as possible," I said.

There was a pause. As you will, said the Andalite. We will leave tomorrow—ah, in two more of your days.

"Isn't there anything earlier?" I asked.

Another pause. Perhaps, he said, looking me up and down with a right stalk eye. Would you not like time to say goodbye before your trip?

That's what they called it. A trip. As if I was simply going to Malibu for the weekend, to suntan on a beach and drink beer. A trip.

I forced a smile. "Perhaps," I said, only to not seem eager. I thought for a moment, and then I said, "May I see Todd Johnson?"

The Andalite hesitated, then he said, Of course, very serenely. He lead me down a hallway, then into an elevator.

We emerged into what I assumed was a medical facility, but I only assumed that because we were visiting Menderash. Nothing else about the place screamed hospital to me. The Andalites were aliens, after all. They weren't going to be wearing scrubs or lab coats.

Instead of having a closed building full of hallways and private rooms, everything was wide open. There were plants everywhere. I could see through the walls and into the red sky.

"Are we on the roof?" I asked.

No, said Eroselfus. The top floor is reserved for transportation. The sky you see is an illusion, meant to aid ailing Andalites. Please, follow me.

As we walked through the Andalite hospital, I realized it was actually pretty private. There were "rooms" of a sort, but they were marked off with vines and plants rather than walls. We eventually arrived at a small alcove. Menderash was lying straight on the floor, like a toy that someone forgot to put back in place. I guess it made sense that the Andalites didn't have any human beds lying around, but the sight still depressed me. He was breathing in slowly, deliberately, but not labored. I lurched forward, intending to kneel next to him, but Eroselfus said, Please do not disturb him.

I straightened my body. I wasn't always the biggest fan of Andalites, but I'd happily admit they had way better medical tech that humans. I'd trust them. If the Andalites told me not to get close to Menderash, I wouldn't get close to Menderash.

He was naked, which was more than a little uncomfortable for me. I skimmed over his private parts and focused on the rest of him. He was cut and bruised, yes, but he didn't look sallow or unhealthy. The Andalites had done a great job healing him. For a moment, just a moment, just one brief and wild moment, I thought they might have enough tech to grow back his arm. I knew Andalites hated disabled people, and I knew that they wouldn't prioritize research for prosthetics or limb regrowth. Still. Perhaps I hadn't understood the whole thing with Mertil fully. Perhaps Ax just came from the Andalite version of the rural south and had outdated views on _vecols._ Perhaps attitudes had recently changed. Perhaps—

But no. My eyes flicked to his right arm, and it was as we had left it; cut just above the elbow. At least it was clean and had healed well. I swallowed hard, forcing down an emotional swell that was somewhere between despair and habit.

I realized I was letting out a held breath. "Oh," I said.

Oh? repeated the Andalite.

I stepped forward again. "May we have some privacy?" I asked.

Eroselfus hesitated. No, he said.

I blinked in surprise. I wasn't Marco, laughing in the face of limitations and boundaries and pushing past them regardless of permission, but that didn't mean I expected to hear 'no' in this particular situation. "I'm sorry?" I found myself asking.

He is still unwell, said Eroselfus, his tone much gentler this time. He is too addled for conversation.

I pressed my lips together. "I don't need to converse with him," I said. "I would just like a moment alone."

That does not make sense, said Eroselfus. He is unconscious.

I knew Andalite culture was based on elaborate and spiritual rituals, so it was very weird that an Andalite wouldn't comprehend the peace someone might find in spending time alone with an unresponsive body.

"Okay," I said slowly. "Could something be arranged before I go, then?"

Eroselfus hesitated again. It is unlikely, he said. Please, follow me. I wish to show you shuttle models available for a comfortable trip.

I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets. Eroselfus moved away from me. I listened to him walk away as I stared at Menderash.

Honorary General Jacob Isaiah Berenson, said Eroselfus. We must leave.

I sighed. "Just Jake, please," I muttered, knowing from years of experience that it would have no effect. I turned to face my guide with the intention of arguing further, but something made me stop. The Andalite's stalk eyes were making rapid movements, as if he were stressed and fidgeting. The energy of it reminded me of a restless leg. His stalk eyes hadn't been moving that quickly before.

I heard Marco's voice again, but not like I heard it before. This time, I heard him say, " _They're hiding something."_

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling the familiar tension headache that always appeared when I couldn't figure out a clean and clear solution.

I had good reason to doubt Marco's suspicions. Here's the thing about Marco: when he's bored, he's paranoid. That's why I knew he needed the _Rachel_ as much as I did.

It wasn't always so bad. At first, just after the war, there had only been a few incidents, which was to be expected. Even Cassie had her struggles in those days. I started getting strange phone calls from Marco where he'd be rambling and disconnected. He'd warn me about some imagined threat and would tell me that it was coming for me next. He'd detail out some complex plan that was impossible to follow, then suddenly hang up.

Most of it came down to him being a young kid who had access to every vice possible. He'd come down from whatever he was on and call me the next morning with apologies. Once he learned how to handle himself, the phone calls pretty much stopped.

Then, things in the media started to calm down. Alien life was accepted, people were adapting to all the new technology, and Yeerk hysteria had quited. Marco went from being an important public figure who held the world's hand through the discovery of alien lifeforms to being, well, just an actor. Marco started letting his public image slip. At first, it was a leak there, a photo here, but it slowly escalated into real scandals. When the scandals got more and more salacious in nature, I got more and more of those rambling voice mails.

When Marco wasn't stimulated, his trauma caught up to him. When Marco had to face his trauma head on, he went into overdrive. Once he got like that, Marco would suddenly become obsessed with solving an imaginary puzzle that had never existed in the first place.

That's what he was doing with his theories about the _Rachel._ There was nothing suspicious about the Andalites taking our broken Yeerk ship away from the rest of the fleet. That was just Marco's version of my shutting down. I recognized that. He didn't.

It was my fault he got like that. During war time, I needed someone paranoid. I encouraged him, over and over again, because his suspicious mind saw things that the rest of us didn't _._ Without me, Marco might have been the kind of guy who went on about government conspiracies after a few beers and that would be it. Because of what I asked of him, Marco's suspicious nature had morphed into something else entirely.

Each and every one of his manic voicemails was my fault. If I hadn't teased more and more paranoia from him, maybe he wouldn't have needed the _Rachel._ Maybe he could be with Cassie right now, safe and warm inside his own home. I had only ever used Cassie for her kindness, after all. With everyone else, I found their darkness and desperation, and I guzzled it down and asked for more.

I owed Marco's suspicions more than a little consideration.

I watched Eroselfus's stalk eyes get all the more twitchy.

No, I still didn't think Marco was right about the _Rachel,_ but there _was_ something off about the way this Andalite was acting. I didn't like how Menderash was eerily still. I thought quickly.

"I'm ready to go," I said. "But first, is there a private place where I can, uh… relieve myself?"

The Andalite looked at me with his main eyes. Did you not relieve yourself back in the alien residency?

I held out my arms helplessly. "Well, you know. Humans."

This is not an aspect of humanity with which I have wished to familiarize myself. I will take you to a waste receptacle.

 _Good_ , I thought. The less this Andalite knew about how long it would take a human to do his business, the better.

"Nearest one, please," I said. "It's an emergency."

The Andalite's stalk eyes started whirring around. This is a matter of life or death? he asked, shocked.

"Uh — yep," I said. "So chop chop." I winced. 'Chop chop' is lame, even for me.

Either way, the Andalite lead me to some sort of weird looking telephone booth and gestured for me to step inside. I did, moving very, very carefully.

I immediately started morphing. There was no way I could hang out in here with a nose. The Andalites may act like their shit doesn't stink but believe me, that is _not_ true.

Within a few minutes, I was a roach.

The roach was never that great at hearing or seeing, but smell? Smell it could do. And boy, were there a lot of smells. New smells. Smells that weren't in the roach brain's index of smells. Let me tell you, the roach was _freaking out_. It knew what smells it needed to survive, and it knew it was finding absolutely _none_ of these things on Andalite. It was somewhat soothed by the contents of the Andalite bathroom, but it still wasn't quite right. It didn't help that the Andalites seemed to prefer shitting in searingly bright light.

The roach was so upset that it took almost a minute before I could wrestle its instincts into submission. As soon as I was in complete control, I motored out of the bathroom, trying desperately to make up for lost time. The room Menderash was in was pretty closeby. If the Andalites weren't lying to me, I'd have plenty of time to check on Menderash and get back to the bathroom before my guide started to ask questions. If I found Menderash and found something wrong, well. I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

While the roach's brain went haywire, I sorted through all the unfamiliar smells and focused on the one that was familiar. A roach could smell a human. Not as well as a wolf or even a tiger, but when there was exactly one human in the whole hospital, the roach got the job done. The smell of human was faint— _very_ faint—but I zeroed in on it, and went toward the source.

I followed it for a really, really long time.

I followed it for way longer than it would take my roach-self to arrive at where Menderash was _supposed_ to be.

When I got close enough to the human smell to sense a vague outline of Menderash's form, I demorphed.

I was definitely not in the same alcove the guide had brought me to. The plants in this alcove were all crumblings leaves and dead, brown vines.

Lately, I've sort of just let things happen around me. I don't have a lot of opinions. I barely register my own surroundings most days. Even when assassination attempts were made against me and I had to morph to save my life, I felt little more than a vague sense of habitual self-preservation. Now, stuck on this alien planet, following a scent that took me far away from the Menderash I had seen with my own two eyes, I actually felt my heart start to race.

If Menderash was here, who or what had been lying on the ground in the other hospital room? It couldn't have been a morph, otherwise Menderash's arm would be whole. My guess was hologram. It explained why I wasn't allowed to spend any time alone with him.

The real Menderash was held up in some sort of sling, presumably something that would otherwise keep a weak Andalite upright. He was still in the t-shirt and sweatpants Santorelli had dressed him in back on the _Rachel_ , which came from Santorelli's own wardrobe, and Menderash looked all the more frail for being in clothes that were too large for him. He'd been weaved through the sling awkwardly, a flesh hammock lazily draped over two points and sagging at uncomfortable angles. His head wasn't supported, and it dripped down like a raindrop. His mouth was open and his eyes were glassy. He slowly turned his blood-heavy head and looked at me with red rimmed eyes.

"Why have you come," he said, in a voice that was low and hoarse and dry. "Even a human should not have to speak to a _vecol nothlit._ "

"That's my choice," I said firmly. I walked toward him, studying the sling and the cables that kept him suspended. "I'm going to get you down, and then we'll talk to the people at the Earth embassy. Okay?"

"Do not," said Menderash. He kept his voice at a whisper. I didn't know if it was in order to not disturb the rest of the hospital, or because couldn't talk any louder. "My fate is sealed. They will keep me here until I am healed enough to survive on my own, then I will be sent to the outskirts to live in isolation."

"As a human?" I said. "That doesn't sound safe. What will you eat?"

Menderash turned his face back toward the ceiling-sky, and he said nothing.

I sighed. They clearly hadn't bought the whole 'Todd Johnson' thing, and with the Andalites' extreme cultural hatred for _vecols_ , it made sense that they would try and whisk Menderash away without me knowing. This was an Andalite deal, not a human one, and they wouldn't want me and the other Animorphs interfering. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't all that interested in letting someone who stood by my side slowly starve to death in the middle of nowhere. Between Marco's paranoia, Tobias's isolation, and the matching deaths of my brother and my cousin, I'd done enough damage. I'd already lost Menderash's arm. I could at least preserve his life.

The cables keeping Menderash suspended were too thick to break and way too complicated to dismantle. Luckily, Menderash's human form was slight, and it would be easy to slip him out. I wrapped my arms around him. "Come on, big guy," I said.

I got Menderash out easily. He immediately put all his weight against me. He felt more like a heavy bag made of bones and skin than he felt like a human who could stand up and function on his own. I pushed him away, as gently as I could, and forced him to hold himself up. I kept my hands on his shoulders. I looked him over.

Some of the Andalites were more comfortable with their human morphs than others, and Menderash generally had a natural ease with body language and facial expressions. Right now, he looked more like Tobias, connected to his body by the barest of threads. I knew why. Sometimes, when the pain was bad, you could mentally lean away from a morphed body and just focus on your inner self. It took away some pain. Not a lot, but some. Menderash must be doing that now.

He didn't deserve this. I should have made a different call. I should have given him more time to strap himself into something stronger, or asked him to be far away from the bridge with all its harsh angles and falling equipment. I should have—

I shook my head. Menderash was in front of me, blank as a doll. If I wanted him to have a full and happy life, I needed to get him out of the Andalites' care.

Please, let him go, came a voice. I whirled around. My guide was back, and he was flanked by two other giant military Andalites. The fiction that you Animorphs believe this man to be a true Earth human is a pretty one, and one that must remain. It is best for both humans and Andalites that one of our own did not conspire with humans to give them access to a Z-space engine. Even in _this_ day and age, that is a severe breach of our laws. Pretend you know him as a comrade's lover, and we will pretend he is nothing more than a _vecol_.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said smoothly. "This man is partnered to my soldier. I will return him to Earth."

Please do not be coy, Honorary General, said the Andalite.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently. "I just want to bring this man home."

I braced myself for the Andalites to brandish their tails. Let them. I knew I could distract them and morph. Let their blades meet my fangs.

The tails remained in place. However, the two military men that were acting as back-up to my guide took out their shredders.

Shit.

It's strangely easy to forget that Andalites typically fight with weapons and not their tails. I was used to Ax, who had no access to technology and fought with nothing but desperation and muscle and blade. I could work with that, as long as I wasn't fighting against Ax himself. No one was as good as him. But shredders at point blank range? That was a different story.

Do not make this difficult, said the Andalite. His weapon gleamed in the false light, metal and white and deadly.

I stared at it, and something within me broke.

My shoulders pushed back and my spine straightened. I made contact with the Andalite's main eyes.

"That's more of a problem for you than it is for me," I bluffed.

I couldn't stand up to three Andalites pointing deadly lasers at me, not as a weak and fleshy human. I didn't care.

I've been an emptied thing for years, a shell, a parody of a person that walked and talked but was shaped of walnut and lined with silk. When I go, I want to go in a way that matters. If I went right here, right now, it'd be fine. I would have bought Menderash time.

The Andalites stared at me, expressions alien and unreadable.

I was a bear surrounded by all the claws and teeth and poison Earth had to offer, backed against a wall with no where else to turn.

It was fitting.

I was fearless.

"Well?" I said.

Suddenly, Eroselfus turned away. I had a feeling he and the other two Andalites were conversing, but I had no idea what they were conversing about. Even though eavesdropping on private thought-speak was impossible, Menderash's eyes went wide like he'd overheard something terrible. He was gripping my forearm tightly. His face had gone pale.

Stay here, said Eroselfus. We will return shortly. He paused, presumably to converse with the other Andalites. Do not try and leave. The entrances are protected.

I nodded, swallowing an urge to attack them as they left. Adrenaline had been poured into me, but fighting the Andalites was not the best way to use it. I was here to rescue Menderash, and they had given me a window to do so. They asked me to stay still and wait, but they had clearly forgotten something.

I could morph.

Marco had been right on the money, not just about the Andalite's shady motives, but about their treatment of aliens. They really did think we were all stupid, and that made _them_ stupid.

The three Andalites walked away. Menderash tugged at my arm, and pulled me further into the alcove.

"They have found—something," he said, speaking quietly. "Something that has made them quite paranoid. They are going to go after Aximili. You must stop them."

"How do you know this?" I asked, instinctively matching his volume.

Menderash peaked out the alcove. "Private thought-speak is not so private when one has access to surveillance methods," said Menderash.

I blinked in surprise. "You can record private thought-speak?" I said. "I know you can record thought-speak in general from broadcasts, but—"

"Now is not the time," he interrupted. "Listen. This building will not be outfitted to record audible speech. We can speak freely, but quickly. There are three hatches in this building, designed to helicopter in Andalites that are in critical condition. I can open them, very briefly, and allow you to escape. Once you do, find Aximili."

"Fine," I said. The black stripes appeared on me first. I watched, with increasingly clarity, as Menderash slowly realized what I was doing. "But you're coming with me."

"That is impossible," he said.

It's not, I said, now completely tiger. Climb on.

Menderash looked at me with an openly shocked expression. He definitely seemed to be connecting with his body again. "I'm sorry?"

The tiger was of jungles and desert and snow. It adapted to extremes with a shrug and change of coat. What was a world of digital skies and manufactured forests to a tiger? It was nothing more than a new playground.

At first, Menderash resisted my plan. But the ancient instincts in our bodies craved some sort of survival without our permission. Even with his glassy eyes, even with my emptiness, we found ourselves struggling to live. Besides, Ax calling for me made him a _nothlit,_ and it was my fault he was a _vecol_. I could at least give him a chance at a life outside Andalite prejudices.

He knew how to dismantle the sling, and we quickly used the cables to tie him to my body. Between my paws and his one arm it had been difficult, but we managed, and managed quickly, because he had to protect his Prince and I had to protect him.

I waited as he pulled up his strange invisible computer, and put in whatever codes he had to put in to access the hatches. The nearest emergency hatch, by my estimate, would require me to run uninterrupted for seven minutes. I wasn't exactly Ax when it came to telling time, but I was an expert at this body, and I knew what it could do. Ten minutes maybe didn't seem like a long time, but I knew from far too much experience that I would be vulnerable and exposed after about thirty seconds.

Menderash counted down.

I coiled my muscles.

"Three… two… one."

I roared. I roared as I had always roared; my whole body vibrating, my throat at the edge of ripping and tearing.

I was adrenaline and muscle and claws. I was not of this planet, and that made me more than a tiger. Here, I was a monster, a creature never before seen. I was a blur of otherworldly orange and jagged black lines. I had a mouth with sharp teeth and a tongue that was fat and wet on a planet that knew neither. I roared and ran, ran and roared, a nightmare of stars and space and Earth.

I made noise because the Andalite hospital had been pin drop quiet, and even my padded feet would make a difference. There would be no subtle escape, no matter what I did, and the roar of a tiger was heard in the places people hide their nightmares. Fear would buy more time than curiosity.

One minute. Two minutes. With the hologram down, the walls were revealed to be made up of something that seemed half wood, half bamboo. It was an unflattering yellow-beige. It was easy to understand why Andalites would hide it.

Three minutes.

I could see the open hatch now, dark maroon sky peeking through sickly yellow.

Four minutes.

I heard the Andalites closing in. I pushed myself faster. I was going so fast, I was at risk of losing control. Distantly, I noticed Menderash was screaming.

Suddenly, I felt a flash of pain. I'd been hit by a shredder, and my left back leg took all of it. I adjusted myself to run three legged without missing a beat. I was well-practiced at it. At least this time, I wasn't bleeding out through an entire severed limb.

I think that trick bought me some time. The Andalites didn't know how used to this I once had been. At least the pain of the shredder was cold and quick. It didn't spread across my nerves like the Dracon beams. It was effective, not cruel. I used that to my advantage. I was used to so much more pain.

Five minutes. Six.

I kept my eyes on the open hatch, running toward the sky. Real sky, dust red and blood red, alien sky—

Then, it shimmered and disappeared. _Shit._

Someone turned the holograms back on, I said to Menderash. Menderash just screamed in response.

If the hologram was gone, then the emergency hatch would be closing. I had only seen it as a patch of sky, and not seen how it was constructed. How would it close? Up and down? Left to right? Two doors meeting in the middle? I had no way of knowing.

Seven minutes.

I pushed out one last burst of speed, directed toward where I thought the hatch had been. There was no choice. I would leap through the closing door, or I wouldn't, and that was the end of it.

I leapt.

The true outside world appeared to me like reality had glitched. I was flying through the air in an arc, orange and black against red sky, which would have meant certain death if it weren't for the Andalite's obsession with domes. After a few seconds, I landed hard on the side of the building. I protracted my claws and used them to force myself backwards, so that I was staring up at the building as I was sliding down. I used my back claws to stabilize my descent. I dug out little curls of Andalite material as I slid, and they rained down on me like ribbons of encouragement. It was wild and dangerous. In a small and buried part of myself, I thought, _this is kind of fun._

Rachel would have loved this. I could almost hear her laugh. She would have wanted me to enjoy it, so I let my heart rise.

Eventually, I found my footing and a sort of rhythm. I was rappelling down the building with leaps and claws, dangerous but controlled, roaring for the joy of it. When I was about twenty feet away from the ground, I propelled myself off, and then I ran.

Menderash had managed to stay on the entire time, which was impressive, especially in his condition. The place on my neck where he was holding onto my skin was as raw as anything, but this body wasn't mine. I'd shed it soon.

I ran for as long as I could. When I knew I had absolutely nothing else inside me, I slowed down, then started demorphing. As much as I didn't care about this body, I also didn't want to feel the aftermath of all I'd done in it.

I felt Menderash roll off of me. The cables must have come loose. The fact that he had held on for so long was nearly a miracle. I heard him start puking. I averted my eyes, trying to afford him what privacy I could, and finished my demorph. Morph exhaustion waved through me, which is a very particular feeling where you technically know your muscles are capable of motion, but your brain is telling you your entire body has become lead and that there is no possible way to continue any physical activity. I sat down, hard. Did I really feel this exhausted after just two morphs and one intense but ultimately quick escape?

"I'm old now," I said, staring up at the sky.

I glanced over at Menderash. He had a shredder burn on his leg. I wasn't as experienced with shredders as I was Dracons, but by my estimation, he'd been hit in a way that was like a second degree sunburn. He'd hurt, but he'd be fine.

He was staring up at the sky, panting. He had dried tears on his cheeks. He noticed me looking at him, and he scowled. "Why did I regurgitate the contents of my stomach? I am familiar with the process, but only in the context of recreational poisoning."

"Uh," I said, rubbing at my temples. I wasn't emotionally prepared to explain the ins and outs of puking to an alien. "It happens for a lot of reason. Fear is one of them."

"Ah," he said. He sniffed, pushed himself forward so that he was balancing without his arm, and then he rubbed at his eyes. "This body is… more complex than I thought."

I nodded and forced myself to stand. I looked down at Menderash and frowned. "Wait. Since when do you drink?"

Menderash looked up at me with exhausted, watery eyes. "Quite often," he said blandly.

I pressed my lips together, studying Menderash. I always assumed he had more motivation and depth than he cared to share, but I guess I had never really thought much about it before. He was pretty much always in a bad mood, and that didn't really make me want to care too much about him. Marco or Santorelli would sometimes attempt to lighten him up, but it never worked. I just wrote him off as a shitty person, and figured that he'd done what he'd done for Ax out of some sort of Andalite honor code.

Now, he was sitting on the ground in the middle of nowhere, engulfed in borrowed clothes that were now stained and torn _._ He had been shoved into a forgotten hospital corner, his own people intending to heal him just until he was well enough to be thrown away as an outcast and starve. His body was exhausted and worn through and was permanently damaged with no hope of recovery. Menderash had received no glory, no honor, and he had accepted his fate. He had made sacrifices for Ax in a way I had never understood before.

I looked up at the sky. It was getting darker, going from maroon to a red-tinged black. I looked back down at Menderash. "We need to hide you," I said.

Menderash scoffed, a hoarse, scratching sound. "We both need to hide," he said. "The military will not allow you to return to Earth, not after rescuing me. I am traitor, a _vecol,_ and a dishonorable _nothlit._ It is a great sin to help someone like myself." Menderash sniffed again, then slowly started to force himself into a standing position. I held out a hand to help him. He looked at it in displeasure for a moment, and then he grabbed it.

"There is one place we could go," he said, stretching out his back. "It is called _Voktra_."

"Where is that?" I asked, keeping my voice as calm as possible.

Menderash's eyes went unfocused as he looked over the Andalite-internet or whatever it was. "It is not a fixed place. It does not want to be found."

"So it's illegal?" I asked, blinking. "Are you sure that's the best place for you?"

"Yes," said Menderash. He seemed to look at his invisible computer again. "If I still have access to—ah. I have located it, and have sent for a vehicle to transport us."

"Wait, you— _what_?" I said, shocked. "Look, I know I'm not the big Andalite expert, but we should think before we order some kind of taxi whatever this—"

Menderash laughed softly. "Do not worry," he said. "I have my ways."

It occurred to me that Menderash had disabled the hologram and opened up the hatch with less resistance than I had signing into AOL. No questions asked, no answers needed. Slowly, I stepped into the blue egg. Where had he gotten this? Why had it come to him so quickly?

I was tired. I felt like a child's playhouse made of sticks and pillow cases, a structure held together for only a summer afternoon and then never again. I had enjoyed myself in a way I hadn't felt for years, but only because there was danger and risk, and only because I had been raised in war and knew no other way to find happiness. I didn't want to face that, but it was there, and it would be faced. I was a breeze away from becoming nothing but a pile of wood and linen on the ground. I couldn't hold it together for long.

I needed to try. I had too many questions about Menderash-Postill-Fastill.


	7. Chapter 7 - Tobias

It was a few hours before I located the Andalite city. I had to backtrack from Ax's family scoop to where he'd rested after his run, then retrace the flight I had taken after I broke off from the group, then fly in the direction the group had been walking—all while the sky started darkening and the air got colder. I was way tired after all of that, but there wasn't any time to worry about it. Which I guess was kind of a good thing in a way, since it meant I also didn't have time to dwell on Noorlin and Forlay, or freak out about being the Ellimist's really super great grandson. But I

would have prefered to distract myself with, like, a lesson in Andalite botany or something instead of Ax getting kidnapped. Again.

All in all, it was surprisingly easy to find where they'd taken the humans, seeing how the Andalites weren't into paved roads. I could still see impressions of shoes in dirt. All the footsteps stopped at some building, and I flew around it until I could see someone I recognized. Which, again, was easy, seeing how most of these rooms had giant, open windows. Man, the Andalites were really making things simple for me, except for kidnapping my friend and everything.

I found Jeanne first. She was napping, something Ax and I should definitely have done instead of having an awkward family reunion. I've always thought she was a really smart person.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really leave and let her sleep. Jeanne! I said, directing my thoughts to her and her alone. She stirred, but didn't wake up.

Thought-speak is actually kind of useless for waking up a human. During the war, none of the Animorphs slept all the way anyway, and we were all half waiting for a panicked thought-speak alarm. Anyone who wasn't us? Hopeless. You could yell at Marco's dad for hours and all he'd do is wake up on his own terms, stretch, and say "Hey, Tobias, you were in my dream!"

Just before I could figure out a new plan, a bunch of Andalites burst into Jeanne's room.

woke her up right away. I flew toward a nearby tree, a brightly colored situation with tons of branches that sort of looked like a crazy straw. I didn't blend in at all, but there were enough giant leaves to hide me.

The Andalites had Santorelli with them. He was walking with his hands in his pockets. He looked for all the world like some regular guy at a mall, except for the tail blade that was at his neck. Jeanne noticed that the same time I did, and fur immediately started growing on her body. An Andalite hit her with some kind of beam, and whatever she was turning into got sucked right back into her skin. She got a tail blade at her neck, too.

All the Andalites were speaking privately, but I could still hear Jeanne. She said, "I have done nothing but sleep since I arrived on this planet. I can promise you I have no idea where Berenson or Champlin may have gone."

I ruffled my feathers. An in! Don't react, I said to Jeanne, It's Tobias. I don't have any idea what's going on, but I promise I'll figure it out. Marco and Jake are missing, I guess?

Jeanne's expression did not change when I spoke to her, which was really impressive. She was probably listening to two sets of thought-speak at once. Slowly and imperceptive to anyone who wasn't looking for it, she nodded.

Okay, I said, my mind racing. And you really don't have any idea where they went?

Again, she nodded, all while saying, "I will cooperate," to the Andalites. Did they teach you how to have two brains in France?

Stay calm, I told her. Just do what they say. I'll find Jake, and—

Two Andalite stalk eyes turned up and looked right at me in unison.

I pushed off the tree and soared into the air, hoping against all hope that I was moving fast enough to escape the Andalites. As soon as someone caught me, it'd be over. I had to stay free and come up with a plan. This was really great, considering I was on an alien planet, had no idea what was happening, and had no idea how to start figuring anything out.

Jake? I called lamely, targeting my thought-speak toward him even if I had no idea where he was physically. Unsurprisingly, he didn't answer.

I flew as fast and hard as I could, pumping myself up way higher in the sky than I should, trying to cover as much ground as possible. Eventually, I saw a bunch of Andalites running toward something. They all looked like big military guys, which could mean they were going somewhere important. I followed them, staying out of sight, and hoped they weren't just leading me to some kind of hip Andalite hang out spot that had nothing to do with Jake.

We ended up in front of a crazy looking building. I perched on a tree, hiding my body and giving myself a moment to catch my breath. That was a mistake. I was exhausted and malnourished and as soon as I perched, I felt all will I had to continue searching for Jake just start leaking from me like an open wound. My eyes closed without my permission. I started wondering if there was really any point to it. If the Andalites wanted us, they could have us. We were on their planet, and our morphing tricks wouldn't really work against the society that invented the technology.

Then, just as I was about to give it all up, I heard a roar. My eyes shot wide open, and I watched as a tiger ran down the side of the building with a distinctly Menderash-shaped human on his back. My feathers stood on end and my beak fell open. I could have laughed. Watching Jake pull something that dumb filled me up with equal amounts of fear, disappointment, nostalgia, and pride. It was a Berenson move if I ever saw one.

I watched them run off. No one followed them. The Andalites clearly didn't expect them to actually, you know, jump out of a building. I launched myself after them. At this point, the sky was so dark it was almost as brown as I was, giving me a little more coverage. I still had to be really careful. Now, not only could I get myself in trouble, I could lead the Andalites straight to Jake.

I wasn't noticed. Eventually, Jake and Menderash stopped running, making it really easy to catch up to them. I swooped in and landed on the ground.

"Hey Tobias," said Jake mildly, as if there was absolutely nothing bizarre about his token bird boy showing up out of the blue on an alien planet. In our world, it wasn't.

Hey Jake, I said. They kidnapped Ax, so I thought I'd check in and see if anyone else got kidnapped.

"Good move," asked Jake. "We almost were. What's the damage?"

They got Santorelli and Jeanne for sure. The Andalites are still looking for Marco. I watched you run down that building. That was cool. Stupid, but cool. I'm glad you didn't die.

He looked at me, concern and worry blatant in his expression. "Did you see who took Prince Aximili?" he asked. I shifted a little, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Menderash wasn't usually an emotional guy. In the six months we'd been on a ship together, his emotions ranged from sullen to frustrated to sullenly frustrated. I really wasn't used to this sort of look on his face.

I did, but I can't ID him, I said, trying to sound soft and comforting. I wasn't sure if I was successful. It's not that I didn't feel bad for him, it's just that I'd spent a lot of time alone in a forest. If an eagle loses his wife to a wolf, the eagle typically doesn't get offended if my condolences aren't warm enough. It just tries to eat me. Basically, I was way out of practice.

Menderash let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. "That is fine," he said. "I believe I already know where they have taken him, and why."

"Tell us," said Jake impatiently.

Menderash opened up his eyes. "In due time," he said. "The vehicle has arrived."

A light blue oval hovercraft floated toward us. It was sort of like Cinderella's carriage, but only if Cinderella had wished upon an egg instead of a pumpkin. It was completely empty inside.

Um, I said. Who is driving?

"Don't be silly," said Menderash. "There is no reason for a vehicle to be piloted by an imperfect sentient when artificial intelligence is so much more reliable. Please do not apply moronic human concepts to Andalite inventions."

"What

this?" asked Jake.

Menderash smiled, warm and genuine, which sent a weird shiver down me. It wasn't a bad thing, not really, but it was sort of like if a poster above your bed of some super hot and super serious model randomly grinned. It just didn't compute. "I designed this at the behest of a friend. Her older brother had lost his back legs in combat, and he was sent off to isolation. She wished to smuggle him back to society, and asked me to build a covert vehicle. While I did worry about the emotional impact of the

in question interacting with society, the vehicle aspect intrigued me."

He placed a hand on the big blue egg and gazed at it lovingly which, again, was a totally new expression for Menderash. "I call this a 'taxi', based off of the Earth concept. It is designed to run at a lower energy output than would typically be caught on scanners, all while still making good speed and running on off-road terrain. The taxis have served us well, allowing the council of

considerable freedom when it comes to transporting those in unfortunate situations." He looked back at us. "Please be forewarned. There are no comforting holograms inside the taxi, as that would amp up the energy signal considerably. It is quite cramped, and nearly intolerable."

I waited for Jake to say something. He was a lot better at communicating with people than me, even back when I was talking to the Animorphs on a daily basis. When he said nothing, I looked over at him. Jake was studying Menderash with a way too familiar expression, one that I hadn't seen in a while. It sent ice through my veins.

When Jake looked at someone like that, he was trying to figure them out. He was trying to see every individual gear in a person, every mechanism and every gadget, and find all the pieces that were useful to him. When Cassie did that, it was to find the places where a person was missing something, and fill it with patience and understanding. When Marco did that, it was a cursory glance, a quick assessment to see if someone was ready-made and useful. When Jake did it, it was a slow thing, and a long thing, and he was figuring out all the ways he could break you down and assemble you back as something he needed.

He'd looked at me like that right before he sent me to Taylor. He looked at Marco like that, when Marco shared his plan on how to knock out Vissers One and Three in one steady blow. He gave that look to Cassie when she told us how to trap David, and he gave that look to Ax before forcing him to torture Chapman. He gave

that look nearly every mission, asking her again and again to give into her own darkness until she could do nothing but crave it. I felt a tightening in my wing muscles, feeling an intense urge to leave and get as far away from Jake as I possibly could—but I didn't.

I'd spent the past six months living side by side with Jake Berenson. It wasn't easy. Some days, it was the hardest thing I've ever done, but most days at least I didn't regret it. I would never fully forgive him, but I've seen enough of him to know that he's punishing himself more than I ever could. It's not that I found joy in that, or never wanted him to find peace. It's just that it was hard to hold hate for someone when you could physically see the weight of his choices on his perpetually hunched shoulders. Loren told me, once, that holding onto anger was like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. I thought of that, and waited for the expression to slide off of Jake's face. When it did, it was easier to remember that I still respected him.

"You're giving us more information than explanations," said Jake carefully. "Slow down. What is the council of

?"

Menderash gave a slight incline of his head, then averted his eyes. "We will speak in the taxi," he said, half mumbling. "Please, get in first. I will need help."

Jake stepped inside, politely ignoring Menderash's embarrassment. I fluttered in after them. There weren't any chairs in the taxi, which made sense. It wasn't really designed for humans or even hawk-shaped sapients. There were plenty of plants, which seemed to be the Andalite decor of choice. I really liked it. It made more sense and was way prettier than, like, a bowl full of silver balls, or framed pictures of squares. Marco's house was

of that stuff. There's no way he actually cared about any of it. I mean, he used to have Spiderman bed sheets.

I perched on a sturdy looking branch and watched as Jake pulled Menderash up into the vehicle. The bandages around his wound were stained with dry blood, but I noticed that a fresh patch had blossomed. He stumbled into the taxi and immediately sat down on the ground, leaning his back against the wall and breathing rapidly.

You don't look great, I said.

"Yes, and pointing that out is useless and unproductive," snapped Menderash.

was the Menderash I was used to.

Jake knelt down and studied Menderash like he was making some sort of an assessment. "Can you hold on just a little bit longer?" he said, managing to sound caring without tipping into cloying. "Just long enough to tell us where we're going, and what to expect?"

Menderash looked up at Jake, then closed his eyes and let his head roll to the side. I would have been worried if he didn't immediately start thought-speaking.

is both a state of mind and a physical place. It is named after a persistent strain of disease that often plagues guide trees when they are incompetently cared for. It is a movement much influenced by humanity, the Animorphs, and Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, though he is far too humble to take credit, Menderash said. I saw a small, exhausted smile appear on his face when he mentioned Ax. It made me like him a little more.

Andalites have had allies before, but none so revolutionary as humans. Humans are, of course, inferior in many ways, but they are also a reflection of Andalite weaknesses. Andalites as a whole would benefit from further freedoms, from further expressions of creativity.

seeks to dismantle the military rule we Andalites have suffered under for centuries, which is ill suited for the ways of our people. Please understand, in no way do we wish to become humanity. You are as ridiculous as you are inspiring.

Thanks for reassuring us, I said. For a second there, I thought I'd met a humble and open-minded Andalite. It was scary. Jake tried to suppress a smile.

Of course, said Menderash, without irony. Andalites are Andalites, humans are humans. But, much like Andalites are sharing our superior technology with humans,

feels that humanity could positively influence Andalites. The military does not agree, and this sort of conversation has become all but illegal. Therefore, those of us who follow the

state of mind have organized a meeting place that changes at every nightfall. Before I did what I did for Aximili, I was prominent at these gatherings. I feel they may still accept me, even as I am.

are welcomed by some in

and human morphs are rampant. Does that satisfy your curiosity?

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again, lost in thought. "A little," he said, slowly and deliberately. "Basically, you're taking us to the Andalite equivalent of a political rally?"

Perhaps, though it is much more in depth. The exchange of human pleasures is a key aspect to

in that—

He cut off, suddenly, and went totally silent.

"Menderash?" asked Jake, but Menderash didn't answer.

He fell asleep, I said. It used to happen to Ax a lot, thought-speaking until his brain turned off.

"Oh," said Jake. He stayed still for a moment, then reached over and ripped a leaf off of a decorative tree. He started fiddling with it, turning it around in his hands and meticulously folding it in various ways.

It wasn't the most comfortable I've ever been. Physically, I was fine, aside from the exhausted and malnourished thing. My talons fit nicely around the tree branch and I felt safe. But emotionally? Jake had become something between a zombie and a symbol, a body that had been emptied of everything but war strategy and focus, then emptied of that. Yeah, I'd forgiven and yeah, I felt bad for him, but that didn't make him any better at conversation. Honestly, I'd rather be in here with Marco, and that was saying a lot. At least Marco was a person.

I closed my eyes. He probably didn't want awkward attempts at communicating either. As soon as I started feeling myself drift away, Jake suddenly decided we

be chatting.

"Do you think Ax and Menderash were, you know. Close?"

I opened my eyes and stretched my wings a little, like Jake was an annoying corvid I was trying to get rid of. Probably. They were Prince and First Officer, after all.

Jake nodded slowly, clearly processing something, but I had no idea what it was. "Prince and First Officer, sure. But that's still a lot to give up just for a superior."

I shrugged my wings. It's his business.

"Right," said Jake. "It's just, I mean, who would

become a

for?"

You, your cousin, Marco, and Cassie, I said dryly. Six years ago, in order to not reveal we were humans. Haven't you heard this story before? I can't remember if I told you.

"Ha," said Jake, still looking distracted. "That was different. Seriously, what would it take for someone to go human, permanently, with deliberate intent?"

An old and buried part of me wanted to scream, to remind Jake that he was the one who sent the only person who ever made me

human into an enemy ship with no back-up—and then it clicked.

I said. Do you think it was—they were—like that?

Jake shrugged. "Could be," he said.

You'd think Menderash would have said something! I said, my mind reeling, reevaluating everything I knew about Menderash and how he talked about Ax. Come to think of it, he actually rarely talked about Ax. That suddenly made a lot of sense.

Jake sort of shrugged. "I never thought to ask. Did you?" said Jake.

I—well, no, I guess I didn't, I said. My feathers stood on end. But shouldn't

have said something? Before he was, you know, possessed? Like, one of us should have known? Right?

Jake looked up at me, making direct and pointed eye contact. "Again, I never asked."

Silence.

"None of us asked," he said.

Silence.

No, I said.

Jake looked back down at the leaf in his hand. He folded it in half, then folded it back on itself. "We're shitty friends," he said, quietly.

I adjusted my weight. At least you're just a friend, I said, just as quiet. I'm a shitty nephew.

We sat together, both at a loss for words, both looking at ourselves with an uncomfortable clarity. I looked over at Menderash. Good for Ax-man, I guess, I said, suddenly desperate to break the silence. Though he's not really what I thought Ax's, um, type would be.

"What do you mean?" asked Jake. "Because he's a guy?"

I shook my head. Not a natural thing for a hawk, but doable. Nyah, Ax never understood why humans were so worried about that kind of thing. I mean, I don't either, but he

didn't understand. It's just that Menderash is, you know, I said, glancing back at Menderash again, making sure he was still fast asleep even if I was using private thought-speak. He's just not very nice.

Jake laughed, short and bitter and understanding. "No, he's not," he said. "But I wouldn't be either, if I were in his shoes."

Freshly human and chasing some half-dream that your boyfriend might be somewhat alive? Yeah. I guess I'd be frustrated too, I said.

Jake nodded, and started unfolding the leaf. He smiled a little, then chuckled. "I think we just gossiped," he said, his eyes still trained on the leaf.

I think we did, too I said. We're not that good at it.

Jake laughed. "We're not," he said. "We'll need to invite Marco next time. He'll come up with something better to say about Menderash than 'not nice'."

Ugh, I said, already imagining all the unnecessarily mean things he'd say. No thanks.

Jake laughed again. It wasn't a huge laugh, but it was genuine and honest and it'd been a very, very long time since I heard it.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence, but this time, it was a lot more comfortable.

Eventually, Jake and I joined Menderash in dozing off. The taxi must be used to this sort of thing, because both Jake and I woke up to a red light that was getting increasingly bright and shining out an open door.

Jake got up first, which caused the light to slowly fade away. Once the light was gone, I saw that night had fallen upon Andalite in full. The sky outside was no longer maroon or dark brown. It was just black.

"Ugh," Jake said, rubbing at his eyes and frowning. "Was that an Andalite alarm clock?"

I think so, I said, stretching my wings. I looked down at Menderash. Um, I don't think he's going to wake up on his own.

Jake made a sympathetic sort of grimace and knelt down next to Menderash. Slowly, gently, Jake got Menderash to wake up. It was a side of Jake I hadn't seen in a while, a side that was as foreign as it was familiar. At first, the way he managed to be kind and gentle but stern was what drew all of us to him. Toward the end, he was only ever our general, and I had forgotten about the gentle giant that was once inside. The way he was with Menderash reminded me of when we first met, when he chased off my monsters and looked at me with more concern than I was used to receiving. It was nice to know that Jake was still capable of that sort of thing, even if he was also still capable of manipulation and ruthlessness.

Soon, Menderash was up, and we started walking up a hill, moving toward what Menderash assured us was

. I wanted to ask why the taxi didn't just drop us off in the middle of the—town? Festival? Whatever it was, we should have just been there. But in the end I decided not to bother. Asking an Andalite about why they did something weird always just made things

confusing, somehow.

The incline was rather steep, and it was definitely way too steep for Menderash's current state. He was really struggling. Jake didn't offer him help, but he did slow himself down considerably, allowing Menderash to believe he was keeping up. It was a nice gesture. If I had been in Menderash's place, I wouldn't have wanted Jake's help, either. Jake always knew exactly how to avoid pity. At least, until he stopped caring about anyone's emotions at all.

I perched on Jake's shoulder, careful not to break his skin. It was hard. Perching on humans was a delicate art, and basically involved using talon muscles to grip in a way they had never been designed to do. Those muscles had atrophied. Like Ax, Jake didn't say anything if I hurt him. It made perching on Jake a strange sort of intimate thing, but I wasn't about to fly ahead when Menderash was moving so slowly. I could hide my pity, too.

Because of the hill and because I was on Jake's shoulder, I couldn't see much. I could, however, hear the noises of civilization get louder and louder. My heart started beating way too fast.

See, back on Earth, I could pretty much go anywhere as a hawk and most people wouldn't notice. Sure, you'd get a few animal lovers, people who scanned the sky and watched me appreciatively, and I didn't mind them. But most people were like Marco, who has literally

a whole zoo, but still thinks every bird that is remotely blue is a blue jay. Most people don't look around and see the whole wonderful world of nature. That's okay by me. I don't need to be seen by the whole world. I don't like feeling conspicuous. When I was human, I

felt conspicuous, even if I was just sitting in Loren's house. I was large and hideous and obvious. I couldn't hide in the soft focus animal world, noticed only by those who loved our left of center universe. I had to stand bulky and exposed. I hated it.

That feeling was extending to Andalite. There were no other birds like me. If one person saw me, they'd make a big deal out of it. Eventually, everyone would be looking at me. The thought was freaking me out.

I thought about morphing. Not into myself, that was too weird. Jake still hadn't seen my human morph, and I wasn't ready for him to realize it was still a child. I had other morphs, though. There was a navy guy from way back when, who I had to acquire even if I didn't have his permission. I didn't want to morph him out of respect for that violation. I could morph Ax's child self, but Ax was a public figure, and that might get weird. There was Taylor. I always thought of her DNA, twisted and pretty, swimming around inside me and waiting to be called on. Blonde, gorgeous, more eye catching than my human form yet somehow more invisible. Taylor was beautiful in a way that people

be beautiful. Taylor existed in this world as a perfect whole, as something that wasn't half alien and wrong. Taylor was the only human morph I had ever

and I hated that.

I wouldn't morph Taylor.

There was no choice. I would stay on Jake's shoulder as a hawk. If I was stared at, then I'd be stared at.

Slow but steady, we continued up the hill. We were silent but for Jake and Menderash's labored breathing, which I could hear with perfect clarity. Ax had mentioned many times that the biodiversity on Earth was astounding, and I never really understood it until now. There were no crickets singing on Andalite, no owls and no wolves. All noise came from us, and from whatever

was. Eventually, Menderash stopped and leaned against a nearby tree. He didn't say anything, but he clearly needed a break. Jake could benefit from one as well. He'd been on the same ship I had, and we were both out of shape. I felt a little guilty for riding on Jake's shoulders, even if my leg muscles hurt, and my wings were still sore from flying so quickly after Ax was taken.

"Ah," said Menderash, speaking after he caught his breath. "I should remind you, again, that many Andalites express themselves in

by partaking in human pleasures. Aximili has explained to me these acts are shameful to true humans. Please, do not be alarmed."

I would have smiled if I could. The image of a ton of Andalites in some sort of secret, underground city, all shoving Cinnabons into their mouth while stuttering out nonsense noises was hilarious. We'll be okay, I said. We're used to it.

Menderash looked surprised. "Aximili is normally quite conservative around humans," he said. He thought for a second. "I believe he once mentioned partaking in some human pleasure with one of you Animorphs. Marco, I believe."

That's true, I guess, I said, laughing. You did have to hand it to Marco, he was hard to embarrass. He and I were the only two who could typically handle an Ax food court binge. It's fine, really, I said. I looked over at Jake, who was smiling a little. He must be having the same mental pictures.

Menderash shrugged, then grimaced. I could only assume a sharp wave of pain was reminding him of his recent surgery. I really felt bad for the guy, regardless of him being nice or not. He should be in bed right now, being taken care of by Ax, who he risked everything to save. It made me really mad at whatever was going on with the Andalites. This was no way to treat a team who had brought back a beloved Prince.

Jake and Menderash started making their way up the hill again. The closer we got to the top, the more serene the scene felt. The Andalite night sky was a little lighter than night on Earth, and the light was still tinged with a dusty rose. It wasn't cold, not really, but there was a persistent wind that was ghostly and combed through my feathers. The trees in this area were more akin to Earth trees, all stretching branches and leaves, but they were strangely shaped and glowed a light pink.

The noises of

started to get clearer. I heard drums and laughter and human voices. It didn't sound like Earth, not at all; the drum beat at distinctly odd rhythms, and the voices were speaking in some kind of crazy language that might have been Galard. I also heard some moans, which was super weird. I guess every Andalite has their own individual quirks, like Ax did with his repeating sounds. Maybe some Andalites moaned while eating.

Just as I was about to start asking questions, we crested the top of the hill.

was revealed to us all at once, in fullness and clarity. Being a hawk, that meant it was

full. And

clear.

Up until now, everything I saw on civilized Andalite had been careful and meticulous. Shapes may look organic, but they were organically designed to wrap perfectly around a particular clearing, or be centered around groves of trees.

looked like something between a campsite and a city. Like if Yellowstone had been redecorated by rave kids. There were tents, but they lit up in weird colors. Neon-like signs hung from trees, all written in the Andalite script Ax once showed me. A pond was host to some kind of weird bake sale, and all the tables glowed. It was pure, untouched chaos.

Every nook and cranny was filled with some kind of activity. Andalites in natural bodies or human forms gathered in random places, often standing in strangely polite lines. Some of the human morphs were buck naked, while some of the Andalites wore little hats or sashes or coats. A few of the human morphs wore outfits that made Menderash's most fancy gowns look understated. Like, really understated. And one time I watched Menderash come out of his cabin in a tailored suit, a fur coat, red gloves, high heels, and a black veil, do the dishes, and then go back into his cabin for the rest of the day.

Thing was, though, that stuff wasn't exactly what I noticed first. That's the stuff I noticed maybe, like, eleventh. For the first time in the past six years, I really, really regretted having hawk eyes.

Oh my god, I said, shuffling my weight on Jake's shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked, squinting toward

. Of course. His human eyes would still see

as various colored blurs.

Um, I said, at a complete and utter loss for words.

I had no idea how to tell Jake that

was full of human-morphed Andalites banging like bunnies.

Lots and lots of bunnies.

Really, really dirty bunnies.


End file.
